


Black the Sun

by sangga



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:43:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangga/pseuds/sangga
Summary: On the eve of a solar eclipse, an exotic baddie needs the blood of a vampire - and Spike just drew the short straw. PG-13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Spike, Buffy, ensemble  
> Disclaimer: All BtVS stuff is owned by Joss and the gang yada yada... Lyrics are used without permission  
> Rating: M  
> Category: Action/Adventure/Romance  
> Spoilers: Not really related to anything - probably S5. Take it as given that Spike got chipped, and is now working with the Scoobies.
> 
> Summary: On the eve of a solar eclipse, an exotic baddie needs the blood of a vampire - and Spike just drew the short straw.
> 
> Author's note: This started out as a straight adventure story, with a bit of coy B/S stuff, but it gradually evolved into more of a shippy fic. I've played around with the characters for a while now, so I figured that this was a natural progression, but it's my first all-out romantic fic, so please be kind. For the card-sharps among us, I don't know shit about poker. Rituals and magicky stuff are adapted from Dianic feminist witchcraft rites - don't try this at home, folks (unless you're an adept!) - and actual Egyptian burial traditions (I am a committed ficwriter after all, and do try and do my research). And - my prejudices showing - Riley doesn't exist. Never did (no tears from me, you'll notice). Thanks to Alex Lloyd for the title, and thanks to Boo, for encouragement and kind words.
> 
> Copyright E. Marney 2001

Black the Sun - oh no, look at what we done  
Go away - oh no, won't you please stay  
And dream of me  
I wish you would dream of me

Up on your feet around the bend  
Searching I hope it never ends  
Walking your lonely street again  
Where the tide meets the shore

And dream of me - I wish you would  
black the sun  
And dream of me - I hope you will  
black the sun

Alex Lloyd

Chapter One - A Slow Time on the Ole Town Tonight

It was a black room, lit only by a shaded overhanging bulb, which cast a circle of glare onto the round green tabletop. Seven figures, in various states of shadow, and preparedness...

"So are you in?" A fog of smoke accompanied the question.

There was a long pause.

Then Xander sighed and tilted his head, staring at the small divvy of chips already on the table. He peered at his cards again with a dissatisfied expression.

"Hm..." He picked up two chips from the dwindling pile in front of him.

Anya nudged him helpfully. "You have to put in the same amount as me - I'm the ante." How she managed to maintain the vivacious enthusiasm at three in the morning was anyone's guess.

"Yes honey, I know - and let me reiterate that this round is being played for real money" He threw his chips in, looking meaningfully at her.

Anya looked miffed. "It's not like I can't tell the difference."

Giles threw in next. "Yes Xander, I think Anya has a handle on the situation - she's won the last two rounds, after all." Anya beamed at Giles' support. Buffy's Watcher had his glasses pushed up onto his head; he'd slung his jacket around the back of his chair, and was now down to braces and an open collar. It was late, and they'd been playing for quite a while now - they were all a little worse for wear. "Really, Spike, must you chain-smoke during every round?"

The bleached vampire, a pack of cigarettes rolled under one black t-shirt sleeve and a shot of Giles' single-malt on his right, just grinned and blew twin plumes of smoke out through his nose, dragon-fashion. "In a word - yes." With one dirty thumbnail, he flicked the corners of the pack of cards under his hand on the table. "Dealer's perogative. Anyway, wouldn't be stud poker without the smoky ambience."

Willow leaned over to Buffy with a grin. "He just likes saying the word 'stud'."

"I've noticed." Buffy rolled her eyes in Spike's direction.

"I'm in." Tara threw her chips into the growing pile. Willow followed as the next in the circle, which left Buffy studying her cards with an unhappy look. She threw in her chips with a shrug.

"Yeah, whatever." She had a terrible hand, and took a swig of soda to console herself.

Spike tossed in his chips with one hand, and looked at Anya. "And..?"

"Ah, give me two cards - no, um, give me three cards. And pass the popcorn."

"Three - and..?"

"Two for me." Xander spoke through a mouthful of potato chips.

Giles held up a finger for one card. "Er, have we exhausted the supply of donuts?"

"Yeah - sorry." Buffy tossed in three cards and nodded at the empty box between her and Willow. "The human garbage disposal here had three."

Willow looked appropriately guilty. "Sorry Giles - I'm a sucker for those little donut holes. Spike, that's two for me."

"And me." Tara snagged a handful of popcorn, before passing the bowl to Anya. She was looking very pleased with herself, on account of the large-ish pile of poker chips in front of her.

Spike started dealing out the requested cards with a practised nonchalance. He perused the table of munching Scoobies. "I believe you're all going to get enormously fat."

Buffy threw popcorn at him. "Yeah, right - any more of those chicken wings and you'll be the only vamp in Sunnydale with a spare tire."

Willow and Tara giggled, and drank out of each other's soda bottles.

"I -" said Spike expansively as he collected cards, "-am on a fixed diet of blood -"

"-and alcohol." said Giles, sotto voce. Buffy snorted.

Spike ignored that comment and continued. "-which would have to be the lowest calorie diet on record."

Willow grinned. "All I can say is that it's a good thing that cigarettes have no measurable calorie value."

Spike raised one eyebrow and tipped his head towards her like a teacher giving a lesson. "Thought you knew, Red - cigarettes constitute the sixth alternative food group."

"I don't get the spare tire thing." Anya whispered to Xander.

"I'll explain later."

Tara rearranged her cards as she spoke. "Actually, I've been reading about this Australian woman who claims to live on air - so Spike, I think that would have to qualify as lower cal than blood."

"Living on air?" Buffy raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds kinda strange," said Willow as she nibbled popcorn. "not to mention a bit, well, unsatisfying."

"Sounds like bollocks to me." Spike was ruminating over his cards, and trying surreptitiously to catch a glance at Buffy's hand. She gave him a pointed look and he grinned wolfishly at her.

"I have to agree with Spike," said Giles. He straightened his cards as he leaned back in his chair. "Living on air has a ring of untruth about it."

Xander, who was throwing popcorn into the air and trying to catch it in his mouth, had laid down his cards and was making no pretence of attempting to get involved in the game. He was losing anyway. "Yeah, maybe she eats stuff and then barfs it up."

"All together people - a hearty 'ew'." Buffy wrinkled her nose, and flicked popcorn at Spike to keep him from looking at her cards.

"Mm - how very Californian," mused Giles, sipping his own glass of Scotch.

"Then I think that would technically come under 'bulimia', as opposed to 'living on air'," said Willow with a grimace.

Spike was losing patience with the chatter. "So are we playing here or what?"

"Oh yes, sorry." Anya stopped trying to catch Xander's popcorn and looked quickly at her cards. "Okay, I bet three." She threw her chips into the coloured puddle of chips in the centre.

Xander shrugged and tossed in three. "Yeah, I'll see that."

"And I'll raise two." Giles straightened in his seat, and threw in five chips with a jaunty air.

Tara gave Giles an amused look. "Well, that was very confident..."

"Yes, it was, rather, wasn't it." He smiled at no one in particular, pleased with himself. Giles was a terrible card player.

"..but I'm afraid I'm going to have to raise you one." Tara smiled at him slyly and tossed in her chips. She could make a bit of money out of this. She hadn't learned nothing from living in a house full of brothers.

Willow looked pained. "Ah, crapola. I fold." She laid her cards down with relief.

Buffy was screwing up her nose in concentration, and Willow's move put her off. "Will, that's not fair - you always fold too early."

Willow shrugged and tried to look apologetic. "Yeah, but I get to share the goodies if Tara wins."

Buffy sighed. "Well, I guess I'll see." She threw in six chips.

"And the dealer sees," said Spike as he pushed his chips forward.

"Well, I raise another two." Anya dribbled her chips in with one hand, while putting popcorn in her mouth with the other. With her apparent disregard for most of the accepted norms of social card-playing, it was difficult to tell if she was bluffing or just being confident.

Xander gave her a look of disbelief, then threw his hand in with a sigh. "Well that's me out."

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and repositioned his glasses. "Erm - hm."

"So are you in or out?" Spike was in the process of lighting another cigarette.

"Ah - oh dear. I'm out." Giles folded his cards down sadly.

"Anya, I'll see that and raise two." Tara was on a roll now, and Willow gave her a happy smile.

Buffy just shook her head. "Too rich for me - I'm out."

"Good for you, pet." Spike had seen enough of Buffy's cards to approve her decision.

She glared at him. "Do you mind?"

He just gave her a 'who-me?' look, and threw in ten chips, catching the eyes of Tara and Anya. "And I'll see your cards, ladies...oh bugger."

Anya had a collection of five cards with absolutely no relationship to each other whatsoever, but Tara had a flush. She grinned broadly, "Read 'em and weep, ace. Flush beats two pair." and started scooping the pool of chips towards herself with a great deal of satisfaction.

Willow was yippee-ing in the background, giving little gleeful claps. The rest of the circle just sighed and reached for their wallets.

"Ah, the joys of card-playing." Giles leaned back in his chair and began polishing off the rest of his drink. In spite of losing fairly consistently all evening, he'd rather enjoyed the mellow atmosphere.

"Yeah - the joys," Xander said glumly, as he passed Tara his and Anya's share.

Tara smiled benevolently at him, tidying up her pile of notes. "Yep, I'll go along with that." She frowned at her stash, then looked up. "Someone didn't - hey, Spike, you holding out on me?"

Spike was leaning over the table, gathering cards together and studiously avoiding her gaze. "Ah, can I owe you?"

Tara gave him a look.

Spike gave a squeak as he felt a light touch on his rear, but before he could turn, Buffy had deftly lifted his wallet out of his jeans pocket. "Hey!"

"Come on, blondie - I know you've got cash. Pay up."

"Give that back!" He grabbed for his wallet, but she slipped it behind her back.

"Oh no, no, no you don't!" Buffy smiled and shook her head at him with a mock frown. She had definitely been sampling his Scotch, Spike decided. He growled at her.

"Now play nice, you kids," said Xander - somewhat distractedly, as Anya was nibbling his ear.

"I will, as soon as I get my - Slayer!"

A grinning Buffy had passed the wallet on to Willow, who was in the process of plucking notes from the billfold. Willow handed the cash to Tara, and then perused the wallet's contents again. "Hey Spike, is that a four-leaf clover? And you've got pictures -"

"That's private." Spike leaned over and snatched back his meager possesions. "Bloody hell, is nothing sacred to you people?"

Giles decided to head off the impending skirmish. "Now, ladies, don't tease the dealer."

"Too right," said Spike with a soft sulk. He tucked his wallet back into his pocket, looking at Buffy warily.

She grinned at him. "Sorry Spike - you're just way too teaseable."

"Yeah, right - you haven't even been trying hard."

"Is that a challenge?"

Giles coughed delicately. "Well, all, it's been very enjoyable, but I think I may have to close up shop. Early start, and all that."

Willow smiled at him. "Yeah - you're a responsible businessman and proprieter now, Giles. You'll have disgruntled customers banging on the door at nine."

He shuddered. "Don't remind me."

Tara began pushing the poker chips together in Giles' direction - they were shop property and standard Friday-poker-night fare. "Why don't you just stay here the night? You'll have to get up in a few hours anyway."

"Yes, it's tempting." He scratched at his chin. "But I think a shower and shave may be more so - and I haven't set up the camp bed yet. So I guess I'll be enjoying my own bed, if only briefly."

Xander stretched and stood. "Well, folks, it's been a blast - nothing I enjoy more than getting my paycheck at the end of the week and then gambling it away again." He smiled at Tara ruefully. "How do you do that?"

She tilted her head and looked mysterious. "Ah, you'll have to keep playing to find out."

Anya leaned over the table towards Tara, examining her face with intense curiousity. "Yes, I also want to know how you keep winning like that. You're not cheating are you?"

Tara smiled at her. "Nope."

"And it's not magic, is it? A never-lose spell or something?"

"Nope."

Anya sighed and stood, linking her arm through Xander's. "Damn. I guess that means that you just know how to play properly, and I can't compete with that." With that parting remark, she and Xander waved their goodbyes and headed for the door.

Buffy stood, rolled the kinks out of her neck and began pulling on her sweater. "Well, I guess I'll do a quick turn of the neighbourhood before I head home." She looked over at Willow and Tara. "Can I walk you guys back?"

"Sure." Willow gathered her jacket and stood. She nudged Tara, who was rubbing her eyes. "C'mon, hon - we got an escort."

"Buffy, I don't know how you can stay awake all night and still function in the morning." The blonde witch shook her head sadly. "I'm gonna be non compos until midday."

"Ah, s'just practise. Besides, I don't have anything major on tomorrow - I mean, today," she amended.

"Giles cleared his throat. "Actually, Buffy, the, er, training session we talked about..."

"Oh, shoot - sorry Giles, I forgot about that." She winced, and sighed towards Willow and Tara. "Well, I guess I do have something. But I can still walk you, that's cool."

"Okay - just let us get our stuff together." Willow and Tara moved to the corner to gather up their belongings.

Giles began clearing the table of the poker remains, then glanced around, noting Spike's sudden absence. There was a clink of glasses from the office - Giles frowned. "Spike - you're not helping yourself to my Scotch again are you?"

The vampire emerged from around the corner, with a decanter in one hand and a glass in the other. "Not at all," he said, as he poured himself a measure.

Giles sighed.

Spike proffered the glass. "Don't want any?"

"No - and neither do you. Hands off my booze, if you don't mind. It's my last bottle." He stood, and began putting things away.

Spike just shrugged, and began sipping his drink. "Got to have a consolation prize. I can get you another if you like."

"By 'get' you mean 'steal' - thanks all the same, Spike, but I do make a enough of a living wage here to afford to buy my own Scotch."

"Suit yourself."

Buffy, Willow and Tara had collected their things and stood ready to leave.

"Sure you don't need a hand cleaning up, Giles?"

"Thank you, Willow, but I think I can manage. Buffy, I'll see you in the morning."

Buffy looked pained. "We're talking 'morning' as in noon, here, aren't we Giles?"

Giles opened his mouth, changed his mind, and settled for a nod. "Alright, I give in. Around lunchime, then, should that suit?"

She grinned broadly at him. "Thanks, Giles - you're the best."

He sighed melodramatically. "Yes, yes - flattery will get you everywhere. Just make sure you get here on time, I can't close up for more than two hours on a Saturday - disgruntled customers and all that."

The three young women offered their thanks and began walking towards the door.

"See ya, Giles." "Yeah, goodnight, Mr Giles!"

Buffy was almost to the door when she turned, as if remembering something, a grin on her face. "Hey, Spike - catch!"

Spike looked up in time to see a small dark object come sailing through the air towards him - he grabbed for it, and found himself holding his own wallet. With an expression of furious surprise, he looked back at Buffy. "You bloody little pickpocket!"

But the only reply was the tinkle of the bell, and a muffled chorus of giggles and goodnights as the girls closed the door behind them.

Spike turned towards Giles, spitting with rage at being caught off-guard. "Did you see that?"

Giles just smiled. "Yes, I did - she's getting rather good at it, isn't she?" The sight of Spike in a temper was usually never so amusing.

The vampire glared at him. "Did you teach her that?"

"Oh, no - she picked that up all on her own."

"Wonderful - just what we need. Vampire Slayer-cum-Artful Dodger," Spike muttered gloomily. He knocked back the rest of his drink, and made ready to pour another.

"Spike..."

"What?"

"Go home, Spike."

Spike sighed, deposited the decanter and the glass on the counter, and reached for his coat. "Oh, alright - party-pooper." He turned up his collar, and loped towards the door.

Giles called after him."Oh, and, Spike -"

The vamp turned, his face half in, half out of the light. "Yeah, what now?"

Giles' face bore the trace of a smile. "I just wanted to say thank you, for being so nice to Tara this evening. I think she really enjoyed her 'winning streak'."

"Yeah, well -" Spike shrugged with a secret grin. "- she misses out sometimes, doesn't she." He peered at Giles with a curious frown. "Take you long to pick that up, did it? I must be slipping."

Giles raised his eyebrows in reply. "I'm really not that bad at cards, you know."

Spike snorted and turned - and with a whirl of shadow, he was gone.

Giles paused to sigh at the oddness of it all, then returned to the cleaning.

  
Chapter Two - Cross Plus Cattleprod Equals No Contest

Buffy had just deposited Willow and Tara at their dorm room. The campus had been dark and unfriendly-looking, so she was glad she'd walked them home.

Willow opened up with her key, and the other two women followed her into the small, comfy room. She lit a couple of perfumed candles just inside the door, and turned with a smile.

"Wow - door to door service. Now that's what I call hospitality."

Buffy shrugged off the thanks. "No problemo. It's on my way home - well, kind of."

"You mean, if you patrol the half of town furthest from your house, then it's on your way home, " Tara grinned, as she dumped a large black canvas bag onto the double bed. There was a clanking, as items inside jostled for position.

Buffy frowned at the bag. "Sure you got enough in there?" She flopped onto the bed, feeling comfortably at home in the witches' room. "What's with the heavy artillery? It's not books, I gather."

Willow bustled around, getting ready for bed. "Nope, not books - books having less of a clanky sound, and more of a thumpy sound, so to speak..."

Tara smiled indulgently at her, then looked over at Buffy. "No books - it's ingredients for some spells we're getting set up. For Sunday, you know?"

Buffy contemplated. "Sunday...mm, nope, no idea. What is it, a Wicca festival day or something?"

Willow and Tara exchanged a glance, then Willow looked at Buffy with a touch of consternation. "You and Giles haven't talked about Sunday? I mean - I thought, you know, that Giles would be getting you ready or something..."

Tara nodded. "Yeah - I thought Mr Giles would be up with that stuff."

Buffy just shook her head - now she was confused, and a little worried. "Why? What's up with Sunday, guys?"

Willow, toothbrush in hand, sat down on the bed opposite Buffy, the black bag between them. "Well, Sunday is a special day, on account of the eclipse."

"An eclipse - like when the shadow goes over the moon?" Buffy looked from Willow to Tara and back again. "But that's no biggy, right? I mean, doesn't it happen a lot?"

Tara was leaning up against the dresser. "Yeah, but this isn't that kind - not a lunar eclipse, I mean. This is going to be a solar eclipse."

"When the moon goes across the sun." Willow continued. "It happens during the day, on Sunday afternoon." She looked meaningfully at Buffy. "It only takes an hour or so, but for a certain period during that time, day basically becomes night -"

"Day becomes night?" Buffy began to understand the reason for their concern.

Tara picked up the thread. "Yeah, it's a pretty heavy time for magic - lots of opposite forces intermingling. It's like a window of opportunity."

"And you figure it might be a heavy vamp-time as well."

Willow caught Buffy's eye. "Well, yeah. The whole 'day-turns-to-night' thing and all - it has to be more than just symbolic." She frowned. "I really thought that Giles would have at least, you know, mentioned it or something."

"Yeah - me too," Buffy replied thoughtfully. "But he did set up this whole special session tomorrow - I mean, today. I guess this must be the big news." She noticed how worried Willow and Tara looked, and gave them a reassuring smile. "I'm sure that's it. And I'm certain he'll have something worked out - he always does."

Willow brightened. "Yeah, I'm sure Giles has some plan or something. He is, like, Mr Man-with-a-Plan."

"Yup - absolutely. I mean, we've dealt with gates of hell, and hordes of undead - I bet a little ole eclipse is just, you know, no sweat. Like this." Buffy snapped her fingers and smiled cheerfully at the witches. And made a mental note to give Giles a swift kick when she saw him at midday. She rose to leave. "Well, I better let you guys get your beauty sleep."

Willow looked up, her face still bearing traces of concern. "So, you sure you'll be okay with the eclipse thingy?"

"I'm sure," Buffy replied with all the confidence she could muster. "I'll talk about it with Giles today and I'll call you about it later."

"Well, okay then. And if you need us, Tara and me'll just be here, working on witchy stuff."

"Thanks guys." Buffy stood in the open door. "And don't stress, okay? And Tara, don't spend your winnings all at once." She smiled at them, and left.

Buffy left the dorm area, and headed downstairs, pushing through the glass doors of the residential college. Her steps were firm, but mentally she was rolling over the new information about the eclipse - and the fact that Giles hadn't mentioned it. What was up with that? Giles was usually on the ball about that sort of stuff - it wasn't like him not to keep her clued in when there might be a possibility of danger.

Maybe he forgot - no, that wasn't like him either. Or maybe he just didn't think it was that important - or maybe he ...she shook her head and sighed. It was kind of pointless angsting about it until she talked to him and got some more information. She quickened her feet as she crossed the dark campus grounds. Speaking of information, she thought it might be worth making a pit-stop - talking to someone who had to know a bit about the eclipse. She picked up the pace, making for the cemetary. It was nearly morning, and if she moved fast she might catch Spike just as he was getting ready for bed.

  
In fact, Spike wasn't as close to home as he would have liked to be. He'd had to make a call at the blood bank - a quick panty-raid, so to speak - and was only just rounding the gravestones on the approach to the crypt. Light was dawning - he could feel the faint energy of it in the air, and the morning breeze was up, wafting under his collar and making him shiver, not from cold, but rather from the anticipation of being caught out just a little too late. Time to pick up his feet.

He closed on the door of his nest, fumbling the pilfered packets of blood into one pocket while sticking a cigarette in his mouth. He frisked up and down his coat - where were those bloody matches? - as he pushed open the door with his shoulder. What he needed was a lighter. He'd had one, a rather nice Dupont from the thirties, but he couldn't remember where he'd put it - could be anywhere, really. Ah, the matches - there you go. Come to think of it, the Dupont might be in that big box down the back of -

And it was at that point, walking into the crypt, match aflame and poised to light his cigarette, that Spike noticed the posse of figures fanned around the walls of his living room.

He stopped, stock still in the centre of the room, and his mouth thinned. The first thing he noticed was that someone had moved behind him, to block the entrance of the crypt. Not good.

"Well - isn't this a nice little welcoming party." His words were flippant, but his voice was low, and he roved his gaze swiftly around the room, counting bodies and calculating. The figures were indistinct in the gloom of the crypt, but it was the smells that identified them. Five humans, a demon of some description, one other - probably human, but reeking of magic. All silent. Really not good. Nice and slow, with calm deliberation, Spike cupped his hand around the dying match, touched the flame to his cigarette, and took a serious draw. It looked like it was going to be a long night - and it was always worth keeping up appearances.

"William the Bloody." The accented voice cutting through the ominous silence came from his right.

Spike paused, opted for nonchalance although his senses were screeching with warning, tapped ash onto the floor. "Who wants to know?"

One of the figures stepped forward - a tall dark-haired woman wearing a rather inappropriate navy business suit. Spike noted the tang of magic that rose from her like perfume. He also noticed that she held a large wooden cross in one hand - and that she didn't appear to be particularly nervous. Relevant fact one. He began making a quick inventory of relevant facts - fact two, they'd come prepared. Fact three -

"William the Bloody - master vampire. Turned in 1880. Grandchilde of the Scourge of Europe. Responsible for the deaths of two Slayers." Fact three - she knew who he was. Frustratingly, he couldn't place the accent. Her voice was warm and deep, like honey, Spike thought. This wasn't a relevant fact. More relevant was the movement from the rest of the group, inching closer as she spoke. He saw that the humans wore white coats - like lab coats. What the hell was this about?

"I think you forgot 'Snappy dresser'." He spoke flatly, only to the woman now, and gazed straight into her face. She stared straight back. Now that was bloody unnerving. She was close enough now for him to take in more details - the sleek, black Egyptian-style bob, the long red fingernails, the sharp features in an olive-skinned face. And he was able to observe every nuance of movement as she smiled - saw her lips curve into a self-satisfied smirk, saw the teeth emerge as she snarled out the last piece of information about him.

"Implanted by the Initiative. Current status: Impotent."

"Hey! - who are you calling impotent?" Spike almost lost sight of how precarious the situation was, with the pissed-off feeling that came over him - geez, you come home after a rough night, you're hanging for a feed, and your crypt is full of bloody overblown heavies who ponce around in business suits and insult your manhood... Then he noticed how the lab-coated group had advanced to within a few arm's length - and that they weren't carrying stakes. Each member of the group held a small, flat device with a handgrip - two-pronged, matt-black. He'd seen them before. He remembered suddenly where - and how little he'd enjoyed the experience when the Initiative boys had used them. Tasers, they'd called them - jazzed-up cattleprods.

And that was when Spike realized that he was really in trouble.

  
Buffy walked through the cemetary, frowning at her feet, visions of suns, moons, and eclipses dancing through her head. Times like these she wished she'd paid more attention in science class. She'd been wracking her brain for whatever data she could remember about astronomical events; the only thing that came back was a mental image of a picture slide that old Mrs Briggs had displayed for the class. It had showed a black background, with a corona of sparkling brilliance around what looked like a big black hole. Buffy only thought of that because she remembered liking the name - the 'Diamond Ring Effect'. Cute. But, honestly, that was all she'd retained.

My poor mom worked her butt off to give me a decent education, and what does she have to show for it? A collection of repair bills, a bunch of disassociated trivia, and a nifty jewellery metaphor, Buffy thought glumly. Oh well - at least Spike should be able to provide something more concrete.

He was getting pretty handy like that, Buffy mused. Almost useful. He'd lent his expertise (not to mentin his expletives) on a few other matters lately, and consulting him was starting to become a habit with her. She wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing. He did know almost as much about demons and stuff as Giles - if only he wasn't so darned testy...

Buffy's feet slid a little on the dewy grass near the crypt, and her hand went out to push at the door - when it suddenly swung inwards, revealing an imposingly attractive woman in a navy suit. The woman glanced down at her imperiously, then pushed past her without a word. Buffy was forced to give ground as the woman was followed by an entourage of guys in white coats and a large, square-jawed man, who could easily have passed as a quarterback with the Sunnydale U football team, and who was hefting a large black roll of carpet over his shoulder. All of them ignored Buffy as they filed out.

"Hello? - geez, rude much..."

She stood to one side of the door as the motley group filled the crypt's grassy 'porch', but when Spike didn't follow in their wake, she took a furtive, frowning peek into the vampire's lair. What the heck was this, a crypt-party? So where was the bleached party animal? When she looked back to see the labcoats depositing odd weapons into a bag, a chill lifted the hairs on the nape of her neck. Something very wrong.... And that was when she saw the pale, long-fingered hand lolling out of the big guy's carpet.

*Spike*

Buffy marched towards the group, who had already started out of the graveyard, the woman and the Hulk in the lead. As she passed the labcoated lackeys, some of them reached out to try and halt her progress - much to their regret, as she casually clocked the more adventurous ones into groaning piles, leaving the rest to scurry out of her path. She was catching up to the leaders, and called for their attention.

"Hey! I said, Hey!!"

The woman and her henchman stopped and turned, looking vaguely surprised at the interruption. Certainly the woman's expression indicated that she was unused to receiving orders of any kind. Well, thought Buffy, she better get over that in a hurry.

She offered up her very best cheerleader smile. "Look, I'm sure you think you're doing me a favour or something, but Spike's really kind of growing on me. Like mould."

The woman's face looked blank. Buffy decided to clarify - with seriousness. "See, kidnapping my friends doesn't really get you onto my Christmas card list. So I want the vamp back - now."

Finally, a response - the woman produced a slow, sardonic smile. When she spoke, Buffy noticed the odd lilting rhythms. "Then, you are the Slayer. It is strange that the Slayer has friends such as this one." Her glance held a weight of sarcastic derision that seemed to colour her words only faintly - Buffy decided that here was someone who was used to hiding her emotions behind polite phrases. And there was nothing Buffy hated more than a goddamn social window dresser. Her face went deadly.

"Look, perhaps I haven't made myself screamingly obvious - tell your friend to drop his little bundle, or I'll have to break his arms."

The woman's expression turned flat and frosty. She caught the Hulk's eye, and muttered a word - "Ushabti." The huge man rolled the Spike-carpet carefully off his shoulder onto the grass, his eyes on Buffy. His face was expressionless, and Buffy started to feel vindicated - Yay, I won the battle of the bitches! - until the guy began moving menacingly towards her. Uh oh.

The quarterback came on quickly, for such a big guy. When he was in range, Buffy let fly with a headshot and roundhouse kick combination. But punching this - this - thing was kind of like punching the Everlast bag in the training room - you hit and you hit, but you make no impression at all. It was like he was absorbing the punishment, as if he was incapable of feeling pain. Buffy's hand swung out for a right hook - and the guy held up one giant palm, letting her smack into it like a workout pad. She tried again with the left - same result.

"What...the hell...are you?" Buffy puffed in frustration. "The world's largest ball of wax?"

Her next right made contact with his shoulder, and once again it was like thudding into an inanimate object. But this time, the guy met her eyes when she made contact. He was trying to tell her something. He looked down - and she followed suit. What Buffy discovered was that he had what looked like an electric shaver nestled under her ribs. What the hell..? She looked back up, to find him grinning into her face. And she had about one second to think "Oh shit" before she felt a sizzling flash of pain, the world short-circuited, and all the lights went out.

  
Chapter Three - Aspirins and Eclipses

"Would you like one aspirin or two?"

Giles was rummaging in a shoebox - his makeshift first aid kit for minor emergencies at the shop - which he'd nestled between piles of stuff on the counter. He kept casting worried glances at Buffy, who was sitting on the research table looking rather worse for wear; but she had Willow to lean on if she got woozy. Giles had called the witches when Buffy had stumbled into the Magic Box with an atrocious headache and a garbled story about Spike being kidnapped. He'd tried Xander and Anya, but had only gotten the machine. Now he was on damage control - and all the detail he'd manage to get out of Buffy so far involved a giant ball of wax, and waking up covered in dew outside Spike's crypt.

"Definitely two - maybe three, " Buffy said with a groan. She was rubbing her ribs where she'd been tasered, and was feeling both sore and uncomfortably damp. Tara carefully placed a rug around her shoulders.

"Here - you don't want to get a chill."

Buffy smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks." Then she winced. "Do we have an ETA on those aspirins Giles?"

"Ah - here they are." He carried them over with a glass of water, watching her with careful concern. "Have you remembered any more about what happened?" he said gently.

Willow gave him a faintly reproachful look. "Give her a sec, here, Giles. She's still hurtin'."

Buffy knocked back the aspirin and shook her head. "It's okay, Will, I've had worse. And Giles is right, these guys have a head start, we need to get moving on this."

"Who exactly are 'these guys'?" Giles asked.

"Well, they weren't all guys - there was a woman. A real customer." Buffy said thoughtfully, remembering. "She looked like the head honcho, the rest were just lackeys or something. Five guys with labcoats, plus the quarterback."

"The quarterback...?"

"This really big guy - the one that zapped me." She shook her head. "He wasn't human, I don't think. No one could take that much punishment and just shrug it off like that."

"You think he was a demon?" Tara suggested.

"Maybe. Whatever he was, he looked like he was the muscle - the woman was doing the bossy thing."

"Perhaps you could describe this woman for me." Giles said. "And the, er, quarterback fellow."

Buffy shrugged, then winced at the pain in her ribs. "Oh, you know - tall, beautiful. She had this Cleopatra hairdo -" She made a face. "- very 80's. And an accent too. She said something to this guy before he attacked me - bashti, oobastee - something like that."

"Ushabti? Was that the word?" Giles turned, with a glimmer of excitement on his face, towards his research files. Willow and Buffy rolled eyes at each other with a grin - Giles was like a kid when he started chasing up obscure bits of information.

Tara had a thoughtful look. "I think I've heard that before - it's Arabic, isn't it?" She looked towards Giles as he returned, leafing through a lightweight leather-bound volume.

"Not Arabic - Egyptian. From the Theban period." He held open the book for their perusal. "It means 'vassal'."

"Yeah - lackey, vassal, whatever. That's the guy." Buffy said with a shrug.

"No, this is a little different - an ushabti is a figurine or statue usually placed in a pharoah's tomb. According to Egyptian burial rites, it performs deeds for the deceased in the other world."

"Well this guy was definitely no statue - he was about 7 feet tall, for a start. And he moved around - " She indicated her ribs. "- as for example. Statues don't usually do that, in my experience."

Willow gave her a gentle nudge. "But Buf, I've come across plenty of spells for bringing totems and things to life - it's definitely possible."

"Yes," Giles agreed. "I've heard of sorcerers performing spells of that nature. The image, or golem, is devoted to a particular master - it has limited powers and often a limited life-span, but it performs set tasks and duties. Such as defence, for instance."

Buffy looked confused. "So if this thing serves a dead person, why was it doing the dirties for the Cleopatra woman? She wasn't dead - or undead either, from what I could work out."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. She just didn't have the vibe." Buffy chewed her lip, thinking. "But she did have a vibe of something - kind of magicky."

"A witch," breathed Tara.

"Or a priestess - given that we seem to be dealing with Egyptian influences here." Giles said. He screwed up his brow, and looked at Buffy. "Is that all you can remember? No other details?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, that's it - except for the tasers."

"Something to do with the governement?" Willow suggested. " I mean, we know the Initiative used them, so maybe..."

"Perhaps, Willow, but I think that kind of technology is available to anyone who has access to large enough sums of money." Giles said. He closed his book with a sigh. "I'm just sorry we don't have more to go on. It would make searching for them a lot easier."

Buffy looked at the floor. She was thinking about Spike - without info they couldn't find his kidnappers, and if they couldn't find the kidnappers... She sighed, feeling a keen anxiety that she didn't want to betray to the others, and hoping that any delays wouldn't be dangerous for the vampire. Or fatal. She swallowed around an odd lump in her throat, then felt a soft touch at her elbow. She looked up into Willow's sympathetic face.

"Poor Spike." Willow gave Buffy a quick, supportive smile. Tara backed her up.

"I'm sure he's okay, Buffy. They wanted him alive - so to speak - for whatever reason, so that's a good thing, right?"

Buffy nodded, slowly. "Yeah, that's a good thing. I just hope we can find him in time for - whatever it is."

Giles was scratching his forehead, pondering. "'Whatever it is' indeed - I just wish we knew exactly. Let's think logically about this - why would you need a vampire?"

"To make another vampire?" Willow proposed.

"But why would you need Spike, as opposed to any other vampire in Sunnydale? They definitely picked him for a reason."

"He has a lot of enemies." Buffy pointed out.

"But I don't think any of his typical foes would kidnap him - they'd be more likely just to stake him and leave it at that."

Tara perked up. "Maybe it's something to do with the eclipse."

Buffy gave Giles a sharp stare. "That's an idea - and can I ask, at this point, why exactly you didn't fill me in about this eclipse-thingy? I mean, 'day into night'....it's kinda important, don't you think?"

Giles had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well, I had planned to discuss it with you today. But honestly Buffy, it isn't the, er, 'big deal' you're making it out to be."

"So, fill me in." She gave him an arch stare.

He took in her pouting expression. "I am sorry - I just didn't think it was of dire importance. You see, the eclipse lasts for about 2 hours -"

Willow nodded. "Well, yeah - and I can think of plenty of things I'd do in two hours if I was a vamp..."

Giles looked faintly exasperated but continued. "- but the totality - the peak period of the eclipse, when the sun is completely obscured - only lasts for 3 minutes. Which rather limits most vampiric activity to poking your head out of your nest and looking around for a moment before ducking back inside." He glanced at Willow meaningfully. "I certainly don't think you'd be traipsing around Sunnydale, wreaking havoc - you're liable to be caught out mid-plunder."

"Oh." Willow coloured delicately.

Then Giles expression turned apologetic. "But I do concede your point - Tara, this business with Spike could very well have something to do with the eclipse. The timing can't be merely a coincidence."

Buffy looked into space, trying to think around the diminishing thump of her head. "So, why Spike? Why do you need a vampire for the eclipse?"

Giles just shrugged regretfully. "I can't tell you at this stage." Then he caught Buffy's eye - he could see that she was worried. "But now we have a good basis for research - the eclipse, a spell of some kind, requiring a vampire, linked to Ancient Egyptian theology or demonology... It's a good start, Buffy."

She nodded and smiled her thanks at his concern.

Willow stood. "Okay - so I guess we go into research mode, huh?"

Giles turned to her and Tara. "No - Buffy and I can attack the books, there's something else I need you to do. It's pointless having new information if we can't use it to free Spike - and we need to know his whereabouts in order to do that."

Tara straightened at the prospect of action. "So you want us to do a 'Lassie-come-home'?"

"Come again?"

The blonde witch looked abashed. "Oh, sorry - in-joke. A location spell, right?"

"Yes," Giles nodded. "Are you up for it? I know you must both be rather tired -"

Willow just grinned. "We're fine Giles. We can catch up on our eight hours later. But -" she added, "-we'll need something personal of Spike's to make the spell work."

"Then I guess you'll have to make a trip to the crypt. Unless, Buffy has stolen his wallet again." He gave his charge a sly look, but she had to shake her head in the negative.

Willow nodded. "Okay, then - crypt it is. Tara?"

"Yup - right behind you." Tara picked up her bag, going to the counter to tuck in a few necessities. Then the two women headed for the door, Willow turning to call to Buffy on her way out. "And don't stress, okay?"

Buffy smiled, hearing her words of only a few hours before echoed back. "Okay. And guys - thanks."

Tara and Willow smiled in return and left the shop. Buffy turned to Giles, sighing at the prospect of researching with a headache.

"Okay, Giles, so where do we start?"

He looked at her sympathetically. "Actually, I'm pretty certain I can handle this alone - I was thinking that you should get some rest."

She began to demur, but he cut in. "Buffy, you're injured. I know, I know, it's not serious, but you also haven't slept for over 24 hours. You'd be more helpful to me - and to Spike - if you were well-rested and at your best."

She made a face, but had to admit he was right. "Oh, okay, fine, I'll rest. Just wake me if you need me." Then she remembered something. " Oh god - Giles, could you call my mom? She'll be having kittens by now, I haven't checked in since last night."

"Certainly. Now go out to the training room - there's blankets and training mats, I think they should suffice for a bed in the short term."

"I'm sure it'll do." Now that she'd stood up and stretched, Buffy realized how sore and tired she really was - a rest probably wasn't such a bad idea. She began dragging her aching, blanket-wrapped body towards the training room.

"And Buffy -"

"Yeah?"

Her Watcher's expression was reassuring. "Spike is very capable - he's survived very well for over a century. I'm sure he'll be alright."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah - me too." But her eyes revealed her apprehension. She turned quickly to prevent Giles from seeing the swirl of strange emotions that washed over her face, and headed for the training room.

"Me too," she whispered softly.

  
Chapter Four - A Spell for Friend

"Um - hello?"

The door to the crypt was ajar, and even though Willow knew that no one was home, it felt kind of strange to just walk in unannounced. She gave the door a little push and it creaked back a bit further, revealing the dim gloom within.

Tara was whispering. "You don't think there'd still be anybody -"

"No, I doubt it. From what Buffy said, the Egyptian guys already got what they came for." Willow replied, in the same hushed tones.

They looked at each other, then tentatively crept over the lintel and down the steps. Willow cast her eyes around the cobwebs and the meagre trappings of Spike's lair. She'd never been here during the day - it was a bit weird. She sniffed the air, noticing a fusty smell of old earth and stale cigarette smoke.

Tara walked forward cautiously. "I feel like I'm breaking and entering," she confided.

"Oh well - Spike would probably approve. And hon, I think we can stop whispering now."

"Oh - okay."

Reluctant to disturb anything, they picked over the debris. Willow noticed the remnants of a wooden chair strewn across the dusty floor, and a number of scuffmarks. There were a couple of nasty-looking dark splatter-marks on the floor - Willow made a face, and then realised that there was a plastic packet beside each one. Blood-bank baggies - and they'd obviously been thrown with some force. Then she made another face, realising the implication - blood-bombs, gross. She drew Tara's attention. "Looks like Spike put up a fight, anyway. Oh no - the TV." The set had been pushed over on it's side, and she moved to right it, poking at the bent aerial.

"Oh boy - Spike's really gonna be pissed about that, " she muttered.

"Willow - look."

Tara had moved over to the opposite side of the crypt and was lifting up a large black length of something. She shook it out - there was a spray of dirt, and the imprint of a shoe on the back, but it was definitely Spike's leather duster.

"God - he never takes that thing off. I thought he was sewn into it. What's it doing lying on the floor?"

"I guess he lost it in the scuffle."

Willow and Tara looked at each other, thinking the same thing - this was serious. Then Willow sighed, and shook herself into action.

"Okay - that qualifies as something personal. It'll do for the spell."

"I'll get the other stuff." Tara handed the coat to Willow and moved for her bag, which she'd left just outside the door.

When she returned, she found Willow swinging from side to side, watching the warm leather brush her legs as she modelled the coat.

"Willow!"

Willow jumped guiltily. "Oh - sorry. But you know -" she grinned, " - I've always kind of wanted to try this on for size." Then her grin changed to guilt again as she took in Tara's expression. "Oh - but not in, like, a morbid way or anything, just, you know...oh, okay, stopping now." She sighed, and slipped the coat off her shoulders.

Tara gave her a forbearing grin. "You're kind of swimming in it anyway, Will."

"Yeah, that's true. But Spike's a lot bigger than me. Okay then, what have we got?"

"Here - candles and censer. I borrowed a bowl from Giles, and there's a bottle of water in the bag."

"You want to do the scrying thing?" Willow looked surprised. "I thought we could do the 'mound of dirt' thing - make a little model, you know?"

"Yeah, we could, but I think Giles needs something more specific - we need technicolour visuals. And making a model with mental energy is pretty tiring, I don't know if I'm totally up for that," Tara admitted.

"Okay - I guess we're both on kind of low battery," Willow conceded. She began brushing away a clearing in the middle of the room. "I'll do the fire, you can do the dragon's blood powder."

The two witches set to work. Once the circle was prepared, they stepped inside and sat cross-legged opposite each other, carefully settling the bowl of water on top of Spike's coat in the centre.

"This concrete is cold," Tara mumbled.

"I'm with you on that one. Okay, are we ready?"

They linked hands and began to chant. The Latin words for invoking the circle became a warm, buzzing hum that rose above the two women and fanned out into the crypt. Willow found herself in a familiar state of heightened awareness - her mind became fuzzily relaxed, but underneath she could feel the thrumming of energy, ready to be channelled into a focussed point. She closed her eys, and let the names of the goddesses roll off her tongue -

"Ea, Aurora, Esmerelda, Vesta, Heartha, Aphrodite, Marianne, Themis, Tiamat, Demeter, Persephone, Kore, Ceres, Diana, Hecate, Devi, Kali, Astarte, Isis -"

The candles flared up dramatically, and Tara and Willow looked at each other. Tara looked at the candles, blazing unnaturally, and returned her gaze to Willow. "Remember what Giles said? Egyptian theology..."

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Whew - I guess so." Then she cautiously continued the spell.

"I enter this circle in perfect love and perfect trust."

Tara echoed her words. "I enter this circle in perfect love and perfect trust. By the holy names, let this circle be purified of all anxieties and fears. The circle is closed."

"The circle is closed."

Around them, the dragon's blood powder on the floor began to glow softly, and Tara realised that her seat no longer felt so cold.

Willow continued. "As servants of the Goddess, we invoke the scrying seal. Lady, help us to find he who is lost; we beg thy aid. Visit the waters and peel back the curtain of ignorance. Clear the darkness from our sight, open our eyes to your understanding. Help us in this hour of our need, for we seek a friend." And with a hitch in her throat, Willow became aware that this was true. Spike really was a friend - had been one for quite a while now. Why had it taken something like this for her to realise it? She began to understand what Buffy was going through, and felt a wave of concern for the bottle-blonde vampire come over her. She looked up at Tara, who was smiling at her sympathetically. She knows it too, Willow thought, knew it before I did. Suddenly she felt bad, that all her old mistrust of Spike, her own prejudices against him, had been so obvious - it must have hurt him a lot, to be involved in all the Scoobies stuff, but never really be accepted. Never be treated like an equal - like a friend. She was surprised to feel her eyes grow wet.

The touch of Tara's hand clasped in her own brought her back to the purpose. The blonde witch smiled gently at her lover. "Hey - no anxieties or fears, remember?"

Willow nodded, and cleared her throat to go on with the spell.

"In the name of the Goddess, we appeal. Themis, Aphrodite, Lady of the waters - " - she scattered a pinch of salt over the water in the bowl - " - allow your elements to reveal the place we seek."

A faint mist began to circle upwards from the water, as though it was coming to a boil. It began to thicken and spread, seeping out over the edges of the bowl, covering the floor of the circle.

Tara took up a handful of myrrh and elecampane powder, sprinkled it over the glowing charcoal in the censer, and continued the spell.

"Thespia, Lady of Darkness and that which is hidden, we invoke thee. We seek one of your children, a creature of the shadow. With these gifts, open our eyes to the place where shades dwell. Our minds receptive to your will, favour us with your gifts. So mote it be."

"So mote it be."

As the final words were said, the two women opened their eyes to see a thick bank of fog blanketting them from the waist down. Willow realised that she felt comfortably warm and relaxed. As she centred her gaze on the scrying bowl, she watched the mists move and part with a sense of wonder that was disconnected from her conscious mind. The water of the bowl was dark, but as she focussed her eyes she began to see shadows forming, swirling - shapes resolved themselves, became defined. It was like looking into a dark window, or a still pool - the images were reflections, ghost-pictures, but definitely clear enough to make out. There was a tall building, a skyscraper lost in a field of similar shapes. At its base, a large metal rostrum held a long stone placard, with letters in bas-relief: Heliopolis.

"That's not Sunnydale," Tara said quietly, the mist stirring with her breath.

"No - it looks like -" The vision spun out into dirty streets and chaotic traffic. Willow glanced at Tara. "It's Los Angeles."

The images shifted, blurred; they were looking inside the building, at a long audience hall or chamber. The walls were ranged with strange statues, and thick with carvings. Glyphs of gods and goddesses, bizarre creatures with heads of bulls and ibis, papyrus reeds; the picture writing of a language now all but forgotten. Except by a few. At one end of the chamber a woman stood, her head tilting as she followed the script - she was dressed in tan linen and jet-beads, her black bob falling to brush her shoulders.

"That must be Buffy's Cleopatra."

To the woman's left was a raised dias, which supported a bed, its massive four-post supports rising to the ceiling. It was curtained all around by swathes of muslin. To one side of the bed stood a giant of a man, standing so still he could have been a statue himself. As the witches watched the image, a disembodied hand stirred the curtain of the bed from inside, and a quavering voice called out a word: "Satis?". The woman turned and strode towards the bed.

The picture blurred again, became formless. Just as Willow was thinking that it might have ended, another vision formed. A smaller room, the stainless steel and blue tones contrasting with the terracottas of a moment before. A raised plinth, of what looked like white marble, dominated the centre, and around it a moving bustle of figures in white coats. It looked like a bizarre operating theatre. But the patient strapped to the plinth -

"Oh, Spike - oh no, " breathed Willow.

He was held down firmly with leather straps at hand, foot, chest and throat. As they watched he began twisting his head around wildly. He seemed to be appealing to the labcoated technicians, but was being ignored. He appeared to give up, cast his eyes towards the ceiling, his expression a maze of frustration and anger. The image began to blur again, but the last thing they saw was Spike's face as he closed his eyes and coiled himself for a final howl to the heavens. The words came out distinctly as the vision faded to black - "Somebody get me the hell out of here!"

Willow and Tara looked up at each other, shaking with effort, and with Spike's desperate call ringing in their ears. Tara let out wobbling breath, her face pale.

"I think we've seen enough."

  
Chapter Five - A Thousand Bottles of Beer

"Somebody get me the hell out of here!"

Spike's yell made a few of the technicians jump, but apart from that produced no discernible effect. He let his head fall back - ow. Bloody marble.

He'd tried wheedling, screaming, complaining, faking nice, and then general abuse, using the choicest of expletives from his extensive collection in a number of languages, but the labcoats had been resolutely ignoring him. He refused to reduce himself to pleading. He was running out of options now. Hang on - there was always that old standby, being monotonously annoying. He took a deep breath, fixed himself a spot on the ceiling, and launched into full voice.

"Ooooh - a thousand bottles of beer on the wall, a thousan' bottles of beer; one fell down, crashed on the groun', nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall - nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of beer..."

Spike switched into auto-pilot as he belted out the song, thinking about how he was going to get out of this rather tight spot he was in. Tight indeed - he'd tried the straps any number of times, but the leather was thick, and held fast. The one around his neck was starting to chafe. This merely contributed to his general state of High Piss-off - this, and the fact that he was hungry, tired, nicotine-deprived, and sore in numerous places from the electric shocks.

Past the fight at the crypt (outnumbered and outgunned, he reminded his ego), he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. 'Here' being this shitty too-bright room with all the labcoats, where he'd blearily regained consciousness. He had no idea how long he'd been out, how long he'd been here, what time it was, whether it was night or day - his internal clock was on the fritz, from lack of an outside view. Maybe daytime - it felt like day, or rather, he felt tired enough for it to be day. He sighed and closed his eyes, keeping up the steady drone.

"...nine hundred and ninety-four bottles of beer on the wall, nine hundred and ninety-four bottles of beer..."

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth, and the dry inside of his mouth, before starting the next verse. He kept reminding himself that he'd been this hungry before, plenty of times. Yup, plenty of times. Okay. So, how to get out of this bloody mess...

The odds were definitely not in his favour. He had no idea where or when he was, and he knew that nobody else did either. A mental image of the Slayer and her friends swam in his vision, then he shook it away. Hell, he thought bitterly, they probably haven't even noticed my absence. He was on his lonesome. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time. What he needed was a brief opportunity - a loosened strap, a moment of weakness, a sympathetic ear... He looked around, as much as was possible, at the labcoats. Not much in the way of sympathy there.

"...one fell down, crashed on the groun', nine hundred and eighty-nine bottles of beer on the wall..."

He noticed one of them let out a small sigh, but by and large they were too on their game to let him bother them at this stage. They were like bloody machines - bustling around, to-ing and fro-ing, little worker bees carrying trays of instruments (that was a worry), and hardly a squeak out of them. They talked to each other in whispers, a low hum that was getting on his nerves. Not like he couldn't hear the words, but it was damned irritating, being ignored like this.

"...nine hundred and seventy-nine bottles of beer on the wall, nine hundred and seventy-nine bottles of beer..."

God, he was even beginning to bore himself. He took another breath to start on his nine hundred and seventy-eighth bottle, but was rudely interrupted by a techie who strode to the plinth and unceremoniously pushed his shoulder down.

Spike favoured the guy with a half-hearted grin. "Well, at bloody last - I thought you lot were deaf or something. Hey, you wouldn't have a cigarette on you by any chance?"

The technician studiously avoided Spike's gaze, and began pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Another guy came and stood by the first, looking on wordlessly. He'd pulled over a tray on a dolly stand, and positioned it beside the plinth. Spike started to feel a nervous tingle in his stomach. He couldn't see what was on the tray, and craning his head only put pressure on his throat.

"Hullo, what's this then, eh? Look, if you're giving me a manicure, I'd like a nice shade of - Jesus! Is that a needle or an icepick?"

The technician brandished the huge syringe above Spike's arm, while the other one began swabbing the inside of the vampire's elbow. Christ, they were really going to jab him with that thing...

"Geez, couldn't you find a bigger one?" His attempt at bravado fell flat - his expression was too freaked out to make it work. Spike's self-preservation instincts kicked in with full force, and he started writhing in the restraints. The technician leaned in with the syringe.

"Hey! I said, hey!! - don't even think about it, you fucking white-coated -"

Spike hissed sharply as the needle slid into the vein. He lifted his head and yelled into the anonymous techie's face, "You bloody wanker - that hurts!!!" before another guy slipped behind him, pushed his head down hard onto the marble, and slapped a large piece of duct tape over his mouth. The operating technician slipped the barrel off the needle and deftly fitted plastic tubing that trailed down into something below Spike's view. Something humming... God, they were drawing his blood. A lot of it. He felt an ennervating weakness curl up through him, a vague nausea in his gut. *Oh shit, oh shit. Nine hundred and seventy bottles of beer on the wall, nine hundred and seventy bottles of beer...*

He could feel the slow drain through his arm - a throb, a false heartbeat. It had to be a machine of some kind - no other way to get blood from a creature with no circulation.

*...one fell down, crashed on the ground...*

He lost count of the bottles. The cold tingle of the needle, the hum of the machine, and the steady drip of his own blood filled him with a terrifying lassitude. This was like his worst nightmare; his life-blood, his core, being pulled out of him slowly... He looked up at the expressionless faces of the technicians, couldn't stand the view, and closed his eyes.

 

The slim young technician in the white coat pushed through the translucent swinging doors, pulling the dolly tray and its precious cargo into the long antechamber. He swung the dolly in front of him carefully, and rolled it towards the massive curtained bed on his left, where the I.V. stand was already set up. He checked the feed - the plastic tubing ran down from the bottle and curled through the curtain without obstruction, but it was nearly past time for a change. With practised moves, the technician began hooking up the new bottle, handling the equipment smoothly. He'd done this so many times before, he could almost do it with his eyes closed. But he was too professional to try a stunt like that.

Besides - there was the guard to think of. The young man looked surreptitiously at the hulking creature to one side of the curtained bed. It's eyes were closed, it might have been asleep - but he knew that wasn't true. The thing never slept. He'd seen it's eyes open slowly, like a fringed clamshell underwater, at regular intervals, which seemed to indicate that it was perpetually on alert That - eyes open or closed - it was standing there, listening for every tiny sound. Waiting. The technician shuddered a little, and focussed on what he was doing.

He finished, and was about to turn away, when a soft sighing breath sounded to his left. The hackles on the back of his neck went up - the lady sure had a way of sneaking up on you.

"Everything is running well?" Madam looked at him with kohl-rimmed eyes, and a smile like a cobra. The black hair framed her face - symmetrical perfection - and her bare shoulders, exposed by the brocaded bustier, gleamed even in the dim light of the antechamber. The technician was forced to clear his throat before replying.

"Yes, Madam - everything is in order. We draw blood for the next transfusion in five hours."

Madam nodded slowly, approvingly. "Excellent. And the creature doesn't trouble you?"

"No, Madam - he is, er, a little more vocal than the previous subject."

The woman's expression went dreamy, staring through the curtain at an indistinct form lying there. "It is of no concern. He is the one who will restore my lord's vigour - and I shall be a true wife again." Her face hardened, and she snared the technician's gaze. "If a problem presents itself, come to me. All must be in order for the end of the saros tomorrow. And be careful with the creature - he is not to be drained and wasted like the others, he is of greater importance. You will see to it."

Her tone brooked no opposition. The technician merely bobbed his head deferentially. "I-I will, Madam."

Having secured his assent, the woman spun on her heel and strode off. The technician followed her progress down the long hall, then came to himself, swallowed and blinked, and quickly hurried back from where he'd come.

  
Chapter Six - The Skinny

With a groan and a stretch, Buffy finally let her eyes come open. She looked up at the pair of boxing gloves dangling from a rail above her, feeling a bit disoriented - oh, yeah. The Magic Box. She was in the training room. She rubbed at her eyes, pushed the rug off and rolled to sit up.

She was still in her clothes from the day before - urgh. God, she needed a shower. What time was it? She had no idea, but it felt kind of late.

It was starting to come back to her now - the fight at the crypt, Giles and the aspirin, Spike... Spike. She pushed herself up, combed her hair back with her fingers and twisted it into a knot at her nape. A quick poke into one of the cupboards found her spare set of training clothes, and she changed hurriedly into the sweatpants and long-sleeved black t-shirt. A splash of water from the sink in the corner had her feeling a bit more alert - a birdbath would have to do for now - and she headed out to the brightness of the front of the shop.

"Ah - the Kraken wakes." Giles sat back in his chair at the research table, rubbing the bridge of his nose and giving Buffy a smile.

"Hey, Giles - hey guys."

"The Buffster - at last. We thought you were gonna sleep all day." Xander had a book balanced in his lap. He and Giles and Willow were buried in research material, and Anya waved while serving a customer. The shop was quiet for a Saturday.

"Hey Buffy," said Willow, through a huge yawn. "Feel better after a rest?"

"Yeah, thanks - how long was I out?"

"It's twelve-thirty," said Giles, "so you've had a good three hours."

Buffy looked abashed. "I didn't mean to sleep for so long - and hey, what about you guys?" She checked out the table of tired Scoobies. Xander was fresh, but Giles and Willow were both looking a bit peaky.

"Oh, I've been asleep at the table, only Giles was too polite to say anything," Willow said with a wan grin.

"Actually, Willow, I was thinking that you should go home and rest with Tara. You must be exhausted." Giles relieved the witch of the book she had in front of her, and Willow pushed away from the table with a grateful smile.

"Can't argue with you there." She stood and pulled on a sweater as she prepared to go. "Thanks, Giles - Buffy, glad to see you're feeling better."

"Sure - oh, hey, how did the spell go?" Buffy's expression was both eager and anxious. She felt guilty now for her lengthy sleep - losing so much time.

"Yup, hit paydirt. But I can't-" Willow yawned again uncontrollably. "-oh boy. I'll let Giles fill you in. See you in a few hours." She walked to the door with a wave to the others.

Buffy slipped into Willow's seat, started perusing the books. "Okay, Giles, what's the skinny?"

Xander leaned back in his chair and caught her eye. "Spike's in L.A."

"Los Angeles?"

"Yes," Giles broke in, "and from what Willow and Tara said he's in quite a bit of trouble. Apparently he's being held in an office building near the city centre." He tapped a location on a street map. "Somewhere near here."

Buffy sat up straight in her chair, looking ready to roll. "Well, great. Then we can go bust him out, right?" She prepared to stand, but Xander reached over and put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Hold on a minute there, Action Girl - it's not gonna be quite that simple." He gave her an understanding smile, then looked over at Giles for support.

"He's right, Buffy." Giles took off his glasses, his face serious. Buffy registered that he looked pale, and rather tired. "The reading we've been doing suggests that the people who kidnapped Spike will put up quite a lot of resistance. He is central to their plans, and they've gone to quite a lot of bother to acquire him. They certainly won't give him up without a fight."

"Well, fine. I'll handle the fighting stuff, you guys can deal with the magicks." She couldn't help it - she had to do something, had to move, act. Every minute they wasted Spike was in danger...

"Hey -" Xander frowned at her, confused by her agitation. "- Buffy, relax. Spike can handle himself. Preparedness is next to godliness, remember? We can't go in before we're ready, or we'll just mess it up."

"But if we know where he is, then we can -"

"Buffy, chill out! I just meant -"

"Leave it, Xander." Buffy felt a small cool hand on her shoulder - Anya had walked up quietly behind her. "Can't you see that she's worried about him?"

Buffy swallowed and looked down. No, that couldn't be it - she couldn't be getting emotional about Spike. For pete's sake, he was just a friend, one of the gang. She'd do the same for any of them. Right? She looked up at Anya - the ex-demon's expression was neutral, but her eyes held sympathy, and her presence at Buffy's shoulder was oddly calming. Buffy returned her gaze to Xander's.

"Sorry - didn't mean to stress you out. But Anya's right, I'm worried. Those guys that vamp-napped him looked pretty serious."

Xander's face registered confusion. "You're worried. About Spike."

"We all are, Xander," Giles interjected smoothly. He fixed Buffy with a curious look, then slipped his glasses back on. "I think perhaps I should explain this situation in more detail."

Buffy nodded. "Please." A touch of sanity.

"Alright, well, the clues from Willow and Tara's location spell were very helpful. Spike is being held in a tower called Heliopolis, near the centre of L.A., as I said. As for the people holding him - well, we're still gathering data, but the woman you encountered this morning in the graveyard is important. Her name is Satis, and I've found links to this name in quite a lot of the literature to do with the cults of Upper Egypt, around the late Middle Kingdom period."

He pushed a large book in Buffy's direction - she gave it a cursory glance. "So this Satis - she's, what, a priestess?"

"In Egyptian mythology, " Giles continued, "Satis was the wife of the creator god, Khnum, who was later identified with Re, the sun god. Satis was therefore known as 'the eye of Re'. She's powerful, yes, and she performs a number of pivotal tasks, which I'll come back to later, but her primary power is through her husband."

Buffy blinked - obscure information overload - but indicated that Giles should go on.

"Now, in relation to our current problem, Willow examined the computer records to do with Heliopolis Tower, and discovered that the building is owned by one very wealthy man, an Egyptian named Aman Eddin Talis. Supposedly the deed for the land has been passed down through the family, but many of the records from overseas are conveniently incomplete, and land title records of Los Angeles seem to suggest that Talis' inheritance has been largely a deliberately confused paper-maze since the early 1900's"

Buffy frowned. "So, this guy has held it the whole time? Wouldn't that make him, like, impossibly old?"

Giles looked at her meaningfully. "Willow discovered references to Aman Talis, in the United States alone, as far back as 1859. Which means that Mr Talis has been around for at least a hundred and fifty years."

"He's a demon then, " Anya suggested. She settled herself on the table beside Xander, swinging her feet.

Giles shook his head. "Actually, it's more complicated than that." He took a deep breath to continue the narrative. "My own theory is that Aman Talis is a sorcerer of some kind - 'Aman' translating to 'Amun', a kind of alternative name for Re. So his power is from the sun-god, or perhaps just the sun itself. But such power requires regular renewal - as the sun goes through a symbolic renewal-"

"-at each eclipse." Buffy finished. The links were starting to come together.

"Exactly."

"So - what does this have to do with Spike? And how does this Satis come into it?"

"As I said, Satis is the wife of Re. She may not be the actual ancient priestess, she may not be as long-lived. But it's quite possible that she is some kind of reborn incarnation of the first Satis - a continuation of the soul, so to speak. Apart from her own magical power, which is considerable, her role is also as 'giver of the water', which the Ancient Egyptians believed could purify the dead. But the Egyptian hieroglyph for 'water' also translates as 'essence' - or blood."

"Spike's blood - his essence." Buffy breathed. She was starting to get a shivery feeling in her gut.

Giles nodded. "A vampire straddles the worlds of the living and the dead - and the older the vampire, the greater the power of it's essence." He looked at Buffy with concern. "I believe that Aman Talis is about to conduct a self-renewal at the time of the eclipse. And I'm afraid that Spike's blood is the key to the ritual."

Buffy sat back in her chair, feeling vaguely sick.

Xander frowned at Giles. "So, they grab Spike for a bit of his blood. Can't he just, I don't know, give a little donation and then they let him go?"

Giles shook his head. "I'm fairly certain that a ritual of this kind would require a complete transfer of energy to the recipient - in other words, Xander, they would have to drain Spike completely for the spell to work."

"Which would kill him, of course, "said Anya, stating the obvious with a bland expression. Then she took in Buffy's face. "Oh - sorry."

Buffy shook her head to clear the fuzz of conflicting emotions, then looked around at the faces at the table. "Okay - it's bad, then. So, we need to move - and we need to do it before tomorrow afternoon. Exactly how much time do we have, Giles?"

Giles took in her stony face. "The totality is scheduled for 12:17pm - so that gives us about 23 hours."

"Right." Buffy took a breath, looking at the books in front of her, but seeing something else entirely. When she raised her eyes, her expression was dark and unsmiling. "So, let's plan."

  
Chapter Seven - The Reborn, and The Rescue

  
In her dreams, she was a little girl again.

The sun was high above her; she could feel the sting of it's rays through the thick material of her hejab. She let the water from the spring flow over one brown hand, cooling her whole body with that simple touch. It felt wet, and tickling, like little fishes sliding through her fingers. She let herself smile for a moment, then moved to set the water-pot upright - it was heavy, and she tipped a splash of water off the top, knowing that she would have to return for another load in any case. She stood, rising off one knee then the other, and turned to make lifting the pot onto her head an easier task.

That was when she saw the horse, felt it's blowing breath. And a man, astride the animal - she was blinded by the sun, could make out only the dark silhouette, shadow falling on her as the man reached down, fixed her chin in his fingers, turned her head to face him. All she could see was blackness, forms above her outlined in brilliance, the gauzy light through the material of a head scarf - hearing the voice, echoing in her mind...

"Don't be afraid. I have found you."

She felt the faint panic of an unfamiliar touch - his hand on her hair. Her fingers went automatically to her hejab, thinking by rote that he was breaking the code - to touch a woman not of your kin, unmarried, it was forbidden by law... Then she heard another word - did he speak, or was the voice in her mind alone?

"Satis."

She blinked her eyes up at the figure, had to turn away from the light - when she looked back, he was gone. The horse, the man - she looked around wildly. Had anyone seen? Was it real? There was nothing but the sand, the sun, and the adobe walls of the village in the distance. Only the memory of warm fingers on her face remained.

In her dreams, he came again.

She was seventeen, and betrothed. Lying in the bed with her sisters, thinking of the morning to come - the robes, the mehndi, eating dates and couscous with her mother and female family members. She felt curiously unmoved by it all. She remembered thinking - Is it not strange, an unfeeling bride? No tears, no nervousness - no happiness. A stone of calmness. She let her mind drift...and when she heard the call, felt a swelling excitement. Moving gently, not to wake the others in the bed, creeping softly in her night-gown, padded feet over packed earth floors - she left the house.

Not sure where she was going, she let her feet direct her, inwardly amused as she wandered towards the boundaries of the village, towards the spring. Realizing the seriousness of her actions - a girl, engaged to be married on the morrow, walking through the village at night...she risked stoning, or worse. But she knew that this was not her fate - knew it in a place deeper than her conscious mind. Something else awaited her. She felt a sense of peacefulness, and was unsurprised to see the horse at the spring, it's rider observing her as the animal cropped grass.

"It's time - I have been waiting for you for so long."

"I know."

The rider reaching out towards her, her lack of fear...

"Take my hand, Satis."

And when she did, it felt like the burning of the sun...

Madam awoke with a soft gasp. Her eyes opened to see the view above - a swathe of cotton, embroidered and woven in the old way - a picture of stars, countless, and a bright spinning disc with tongues of flame...

She let her breath out silently. The dream again - and now she was returned, lying beside her husband on the huge bed in the antechamber. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to see the man who'd called her long ago - the tanned skin, the high cheekbones, eyes of dark granite, thick black hair running through her fingers as they kissed. The passion, the ecstacy of the embrace - warmth filling her blood, scouring her skin, a sizzle of fire as their lips pressed together, a liquid sun between her legs...

She opened her eyes, the image rising in her sight to replace the reality. Lying beside her, an old man - withered like a corpse, skin sticking to the bones, the robes of his office falling flat about him, his breath barely lifting the material, strands of grey feathered across his head. Eyes closed. Lips, once so full, now thin and white. Skeleton hands.

She sighed and reached out, touching one shrivelled cheek. Her husband - so close to death. In her mind's eye she interposed the reality with the old image, with the way it was.

Her face closed to sadness, and when she spoke it was with emphatic finality.

"And the way it will be again."

 

  
The drive felt like it had gone on forever, and when she saw the lights of the approaching city in the darkness ahead, Buffy had felt herself take a slow releasing breath. She'd been in Giles' car, his sporty little red mid-life crisis machine with the roof up, sitting in the passenger seat, listening with one ear, while Giles continued to explain aspects of the situation. She'd berated herself for paying scant attention, tried to focus on his words - words like 'totality', 'ritual', 'soul', 'rebirth' - but the only words she'd been able to focus on were 'Spike', 'blood' and 'death'.

What was wrong with her? She tried to tell herself that if they'd been going to rescue anyone else - Xander, Willow - she'd have felt the same sense of anxiety, the same swelling fear. Spike was one of the gang, a friend like any of her other friends. Well, not quite. Kind of a demon-friend. A friend with bumps.

But, bumps or no bumps, he was in trouble, and it was now up to her to make sure that he stayed in one piece. Which only made her think of him in pieces, and the feelings of fretful worry rose in her again. She shook her head, tried to sigh out some of the unbearable tension. She bit her nails - that helped.

"Buffy - have you been listening to what I just said?"

"Um - yup, sure. Magical priestesses and rebirth, and all that."

"Buffy -" Giles looked over at her briefly. When he returned his gaze to the darkness of the road, it was with an indecipherable expression. He spoke to her slowly. "Buffy - when we go into any situation, you know that it's important that you remain centred."

"And I am, Giles - totally centred, right here, in the centre."

He went on carefully. "And in order to do that, you have to be detached. Emotionally. To ensure that you stay focussed, you can't allow worry or fears to creep in."

Buffy nodded towards him, gnawing on her thumbnail, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere out in front of the headlights. "Yup - no creeping of any kind."

Giles sighed - this was going to be difficult. He tried again.

"Buffy, you can't let your feelings influence your judgement. Not when it comes to a confrontation of this nature. No matter who might be involved."

It started to dawn on her that this was Giles trying to be subtle. Buffy forced her hands back into her lap, and turned to her Watcher.

"Giles, it's fine. Really. Look, I'm worried about Spike, but I wouldn't be any less worried if it was you, or..I don't know - Dawn, up in that stupid tower thingy. I'd still want to rush in and smack heads together - it's just my nature. All this...Slayer energy, or something." She looked over at him, smiling, doing her best to appear calm and prepared.

Giles gave her an unconvinced look, then raised his eyebrows at the road and sighed. "Alright. As long as you understand the need for your undivided concentration..."

"I do. And I am listening to you - honestly."

"Good."

"I just need you to repeat that last thing you said about...whatever it was."

Giles sighed.

  
When they finally hit L.A. and started trawling through the streets it was nearly dawn. Giles drove slowly, in the way of someone who's not exactly familiar with the territory, and stopped once to consult the street map. Xander, driving Joyce's car, with Willow and Tara on board, had pulled ahead and turned into a side street. Obviously he was getting more accurate directions than the ones that Giles had.

In the end, they found Heliopolis Tower without too much difficulty. The only real problem had been the eternal one of cities the world over - where to park.

Pulling up a block away, in a meter zone, Buffy and Giles got out of the convertible and began unloading supplies. Willow and Tara tumbled out of the other car and looked around the quiet, still-dark street, followed by Xander, who stretched extravagantly.

"God - these L.A. trips sure don't get any easier on the ass."

Willow nudged him. "Well, just remember what Anya said - she wants the ass back, or she'll be mighty angry."

He held up his hands. "Hey - no problems there. I don't plan on being separated from my ass at this juncture. Maybe ask me in forty years or so, when the bunions start to set in."

Tara grimaced. "Thanks, Xander - just a little too much information."

Buffy wandered over, rubbing the kinks out of her neck, and leaving Giles scrounging in his pockets. "Hey there, fun trip huh? - as usual. And, by the way - any of you guys got change?"

Willow handed over a palmful of coins with a grin. "Here you go. You're lucky I remembered my last trip here. It'd be a tragedy if we came this far to rescue Spike, and were turned back by the meter maid."

Buffy smiled her thanks, and went back to the convertible. Xander locked up Joyce's car, and followed the two witches as they joined Buffy and her Watcher. Giles looked up from filling the meter, put in a final dollar and picked up a large duffle bag - it matched the one that Buffy was hefting over her shoulder.

"So are we ready then?"

Nods all round.

"Then - let's go."

The burnished spire of the tower gleamed in the early rays of the sun, and they aimed for it as the crow flies. A brief walk found the Scoobies out the front of an imposing building with a giant rostrum in the centre of what looked like the forecourt. Stone-paved walkways angled up in three directions towards the mammoth front entrance. The rostrum sign spun slowly on a central axis - on it's next turn, Willow and Tara looked at each other, after catching a glimpse of the name from their vision: 'Heliopolis' was carved into the stone in deep relief. Buffy couldn't help thinking of the names carved into gravestones, and suppressed a shudder. They all stood in silence for a moment, then Xander cleared his throat, and voiced the relevant question.

"So - how exactly do we get into this place?"

Giles spoke up. "Through the basement car park."

The other Scoobies looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.

"I rang Cordelia, and asked her to find out some potential entrances and exits from the blueprints in the Town Planning Office."

Willow frowned at him. "Gee, Giles - I wish you'd told me. I could have got that stuff for you on the computer."

Giles looked faintly put-out. "Oh."

Buffy straightened. "Well, anyway - great. To the carpark we go."

Giles pointed, and they headed around the side of the building, following the pavement and sculpted islands of garden, until they hit a downward sloping drive. The metal security door was down, but Giles went immediately towards the guards entrance, a regular door to one side. The rest of the group hung back while he fiddled at the doorknob for a moment - then he grinned, and pushed the door open with a little flourish. The Scoobies quickly hurried over and began filing inside. Buffy raised her eyebrows at Giles as she slipped through the door.

"Benefits of a misspent youth, huh?"

He gave her a self-deprecating smile. "Not totally misspent, it seems."

The car park was dark and low-ceilinged. The Scoobies stuck to the walls as they headed in the direction Giles indicated, towards an open lift, lit from within by a soft blue fluorescent light. Giles stopped them as they were about to go in, ushered them into a dark corner.

"Right." He leaned down a little to make himself heard at a whisper. "From here on in we are officially on our guard. We could get in trouble for being in the carpark, but we'll definitely be arrested if we're found in the building, though something tells me that this will be the least of our worries. We'll be going for the forty-first floor - that's the apartment level, and I'd say that we should pretty much be prepared for anything. Just try to remember what I've explained about the beings we're up against."

They all nodded. Buffy set down her bag and began unloading a few tasty bits and pieces, handing weapons to Xander, Tara and Willow.

Tara held up hers - a short handle topped by a ball of pointed spikes - and looked at Buffy with a confused expression. "A mace?"

Buffy shrugged apologetically. "To cut a long story short, I didn't know what to pack." She took in Tara's face. "Well, they're not vampires, so it's kind of pot luck, I guess."

Xander held up a long knife. "Don't you have an uzi in that bag or something?"

Willow looked up at him. "Quit complaining - I got the flail."

Buffy sighed, and left them squabbling in whispers over the weapons in the bag. She reached into the other duffle at Giles' feet and drew out a crossbow - and something else. Pulling it on over her black top and jeans, she rolled up the sleeves and belted it in hard at her waist. She looked up to find Willow staring.

"Buffy - you're wearing Spike's coat."

That drew everyone's attention. Buffy just shrugged, and tried to look nonchalant as she pulled her ponytail out of the collar.

"Yeah, well, you know, he might need it or something. It is going to be day when we get out of here, and I'd rather wear this than have to haul around a spare rug as anti-tan cover."

There was a collective pause. Giles cleared his throat. "Hm. Er, good thinking. Shall we continue?" He indicated the lift.

The Scoobies piled in, and stood bathed in blue light, waiting. Giles perused them all, weapons in hand, and felt oddly proud. He tilted his head. "Are we ready? Then Xander, if you don't mind..."

Xander leaned forward and hit the button for the forty-first floor, and with a hiss, the metal doors slid closed.

  
Chapter Eight - Desert Creatures

Dry.

His whole body felt dry. His throat was parched, and it was hard to swallow. His face felt tight, and if he'd been able to reach up and touch his skin, he thought it'd probably feel papery. Even his eyeballs felt dehydrated in their sockets.

His lips were dry, and his tongue inside his mouth felt swollen. Someone had removed the duct tape when they realized that he was beyond speaking. He'd lost track of time a while back. The lights above the plinth were always on anyway - with his eyes closed, he could still see a haze of brightness behind his eyelids. It was like being in the desert - a never-ending day, the burning of the sun, and the terrible thirst.

If this was what dying was like, he wished they'd hurry up and get it over with.

He was on tap now - they'd left needles permanently threaded into the veins in each arm, held in place with suture tape, and at some point they'd cut away his t-shirt to access the carotid artery, where it slid under his collarbone. Actually that had really hurt, but by then he'd been just too bloody tired to struggle.

Just too bloody tired.

He felt like he'd been microwaved - the moisture sucked away, replaced by sand. And with all the needles in him, he felt like a junkie, with a difference - getting all the nasty trackmarks, but without the compensatory high.

When they removed his boots to get at the veins in his ankles, it was all that he could do to make a small 'oh' of protest. And even then, no sound came out - just his lips moved, opening and closing, like a fish on a riverbank.

There were people moving around him, or maybe he was moving and they were standing still. Whatever. He hadn't bothered to look, it took too much effort. But he still recognized the odd flavour of the air when someone else entered the room, stood above the plinth looking down, shading him from the lights. He was grateful for the shade.

A low, accented voice, like honey.

"The creature looks depleted. You do not drain him completely?"

"No, Madam." A younger male voice. One of the technicians. "As per your orders, we only take the regular amount for the transfusions."

"He is not to be exhausted - if he dies before time, I will be...displeased."

"Yes, Madam." A nervous tenor to the voice now. "We're being very careful."

"That is good. Everything must be perfect. And stay alert - there are enemies approaching."

"Yes, Madam."

Spike felt a warmth of breath, and a softness on his cheek. Her hair. She was leaning in over him, close enough to whisper.

"Your little friends are on their way - I have felt it. They come to release you. But they will be too late. I have arranged...distractions for them." Madam tilted her head over the face of the vampire, examining him like a bug under a microscope, with an expression of detached curiousity. "Strange - you have strange allies. Why does a Slayer come to rescue such a one as you?"

He tried to crack open his eyes, meet her stare, but he couldn't focus. What had she said, about the Slayer?

Madam leaned over him with a final smile. "It is of no importance. Your friends will die, you will die - my lord will be restored." And she ran a red-tipped finger down Spike's face, from the top of his brow in a long line to his chin, before whirling away.

The lights came back with full force - Spike winced. And the line that Satis' finger had traced burned like solar fire.

 

The lift began a steady rise - the lights strobed dully at each floor. Buffy felt a chill under her skin, in spite of Spike's coat, and her stomach ascended against gravity. Her fingers curled and uncurled around the butt of the crossbow. This was it then - she finally got to square off against these Egyptian guys. She drew a breath, the skin under her ribs tensing with the memory of her last encounter, only yesterday, she remembered. The prospect of a good hard fight, and of finally doing something to get Spike out, had all her senses on overdrive.

Giles and the other Scoobies were silent, watching the lift lights and bracing themselves for the battle ahead. Suddenly Willow turned, as she thought of something.

"Oh - wait a sec. You might need this." She took one of Buffy's hands and pressed something into it. The Slayer looked down - a piece of metal on a leather thong nestled in her palm.

"What's this?"

"Here - let me put it on you, make it easy..." Willow took the necklace back, then stepped behind Buffy and slipped the thong around her neck. Buffy examined the metal - it was an amulet of some kind, a circle in the centre, framed by two triangles and a couple of curly lines.

"Gee, Will, thanks. But, um - what is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

Willow finished fixing the knot, and smiled at Buffy. "Cute, huh? It's a wedjet-eye - I found it in the shop. It's a symbol of Horus, and me and Tara did a few jiggies on it to boost it a bit - it's to protect against the evil eye."

Buffy smiled softly at the witch's thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Will." Then she quirked her lips at the two women smiling at her. "Wow, and I didn't get you guys anything..."

Tara grinned at her. "Just kick Satis' butt and we'll consider it even."

Giles interrupted. "That was a good idea, Willow. And I trust that you and Tara have those things I suggested you bring?"

Willow patted the pockets of her jacket. "Right here - and a few other bits and pieces that might come in handy."

Xander looked left out. "Geez, Giles, you didn't want me to bring anything? I could have wrangled, oh, a T-square or something."

Giles smiled faintly. "Thank you for the offer Xander, but I think we'll be relying on your, er, manly strength this time."

Xander tried to look manly. "Of which I have a great supply, naturally." The lift pinged, and his expression changed. "Okay - here we go."

The doors opened, and the Scoobies looked out at - a brick wall.

Xander looked confused. "Hey - kinda bad construction isn't it?"

Giles frowned. "Cordelia said the forty-first floor..."

"In my experience, doors are generally designed to open onto something. Buffy?"

Buffy frowned and then stepped forward and pressed her hands against the brick. The mortar was jagged in places...she had an idea.

"Tara, borrow your mace for a second?" She took the proffered weapon, and angled herself to the wall, looking back at the others briefly. "Okay -you might want to stand back a bit."

They all took a large step backwards. Buffy braced, then smashed the wall with the mace - plaster crumbled. She gave it a few more heavy thumps, until the bricks in the centre began to loosen. Then she returned Tara's weapon, and gave the bricks a solid push. About half a dozen bricks tumbled back into space, exposing a dead blackness in the centre of the wall.

"What the hell..?" Buffy leaned forward to peer through the hole, then recoiled with a gasp. A large black scorpion had scrambled up onto a brick near her face and squatted there, it's tail poised. Buffy jumped back. "Oh boy, critter alert." She took another step back when a second scorpion crawled up to join it's friend. Then another appeared - and another. They began skittering down the brickwork towards the floor of the lift.

Willow backed into the corner of the lift. "Anyone got a can of Raid?"

Xander lifted his boot and unceremoniously squashed the first scorpion to reach the floor. But there were more coming out of the opening - two more emerged, then another. Then more - a lot more.

Tara was trying to paste herself to the metal wall, getting that cringey feeling she always had around big bugs. She looked at the hole and gasped as a fringe of black legs began appearing above the bricks. "Oh - I think this might be bad..." And a torrent of scorpions began scuttling over the hole in the bricks and flowing towards the floor.

"Buffy, get back!" Giles was trying to squash scorpions underfoot. "And watch out for the tails..."

As Buffy turned, trying to stamp on the creatures, the folds of Spike's duster whirled like a dark party dress around her. She got five in a row, then had to shake off one that was climbing up her boot.

Xander was jumping from one foot to the other madly, trying to carpet the lift with dead scorpions. But for every one that he squashed, six more took it's place. He growled with frustration. "There's too many!"

Willow and Tara looked at each other, then Willow began scrabbling through her pockets. Tara licked her lips, and fought back her fear of creepy crawlies to step away from the wall and begin chanting. "Ignis, Ignis, Ignis - By Taweret, by Phoedima, by Aurora, by holy names I hold you fast. With fire I hold you fast, with binding I hold you fast, with will I hold you fast." With a moan, she reached out for Willow as the scorpions streamed into the lift. The two witches held up their free hands, palms up, and blew gently onto them - a flame ignited dramatically on each palm.

Buffy was moving fast, throwing off scorpions that had caught onto the edges of her coat. "Whatever you're going to do, guys - do it now!"

Willow pulled her hand out of her pocket, with a handful of yellow powder. She spread it in a wave over the advancing insects, as Tara pulled Buffy, Xander and Giles back into the protection of the circle. Then the two women cast their hand-fires down, in a throwing motion over the powder - it lit up with a satisfying whoosh. The scorpions' chittering echoed in the small space of the lift, but they couldn't advance past the ring of flames.

"Oh, well done." Giles picked a scorpion leg off his shoe and flicked it into the fire.

"Yeah, great job." Xander brushed his shoulders off with a shudder. "But aren't they supposed to get crispy?" He indicated the short wall of fire on the floor keeping the insect army at bay - the fire was holding them back, but not consuming them.

Willow shook her head. "No - it's only for keeping them out, not burning them up." She narrowed her eyes at the surging insects on the other side of the flames. "Wait, I have an idea - Tara, didn't we read something about a scorpion goddess..?"

"Yeah, but I forget the spell."

"Well, I don't." Giles took a short step forward, and seemed to address the black and undulating floor. He held up one hand, and began a guttural intonation.

Buffy whispered to Tara. "What's he saying?"

Tara shook her head. "It's in Arabic."

Willow made an 'oh'. "I remember this now -" She began speaking softly behind Giles, her eyes focussed on the scorpions. "My mother is Isis, my nurse is Nephthys, Neith is behind me and Selket before. Selket, fair one, reclaim your creatures and return them to your breast. Let them seek you out, who have eyes to find you, and guard us from the creatures of the underworld."

As the words of the spell concluded, Giles stepped back from the scorpions and watched carefully. Like a black wave, the creatures seemed to collectively pause - then began a retreat, streaming back through the hole in the brick wall from where they'd first emerged.

"Well - haven't completely lost my touch." Giles looked pleased with himself.

Buffy grinned. "You're the guy, Giles. Ah, Will?"

"Oh, yeah - I guess that's enough fire for now." She gestured towards the flames. "Discadae." The fire wall puffed out with a trail of yellow smoke. And as she did so, the doors of the lift slid closed abruptly, shutting out bricks and scorpions altogether. "Hey! Not my fault, I didn't do that."

Xander directed their attention up to the lift lights. "Well, whatever you didn't do, we're on the move again."

The Scoobies looked at each other with nervous expressions. Buffy took a breath.

"Well - strange lifts, brick walls, scorpions...this Satis gal sure has some tricks up her sleeve."

Giles looked worried. "Buffy, I have a feeling that these may be the least of her 'tricks'. That was too easy, I'm afraid."

The lift moved on.

  
Vaguely amused, Spike watched the trillion little pinwheels of glare behind his eyelids, and tried very hard to focus his mind.

Something that ole Cleopatra had said...something about the Slayer. Strange allies. That was it. In amongst the 'you'll die, I'll win, nyah, nyah' stuff, was the crucial information - they were coming. The Scoobies - Buffy - was coming. For him.

Well, what a turn-up, eh?

He tried to think logically - no easy task when trying to think at all was such a chore. They may not make it. The priestess was strong, this place had to be heavily fortified, and the odds were against them. A bunch of kids, really, and the old man - even with the Slayer behind them, their chances were less than spectacular. Not that he wasn't grateful. He was - very. He just loathed getting his hopes up and then having to face reality after a tragic defeat. That's it, Spike, think positive... But if there was one thing that he'd learned over the centuries, it was about walking the fine line between being positive and being pragmatic. You had to know when to hold 'em, and when to fold 'em, so to speak.

God, he was quoting country and western songs now - he really was going bonkers.

But somewhere in his brain, he couldn't help but feel...hopeful. Happy, even. They'd remembered him - they were coming for him. Buffy was coming for him. For a brief moment, he let himself revel in his cache of memories of the Slayer - a flash of blonde hair, a fury of whirling limbs, fine-boned hands, a lilting scent. Wisecracks. Warmth. He associated her with strength, and purpose. And other things...he thought of her figure. The smell of her sweat. The spice of hot blood below her skin... Spike tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but his mouth was too dry even for a bit of lascivious spit. Bugger.

She was coming to get him out of here, and he felt profoundly relieved. He just had to hang on until then.

There was a bustle of movement, and he felt the technicians roll up the ankle of his jeans to hook up the vein on his left leg, winced as he felt the sting and draw of the machine, and the crawling horror of the fake heartbeat through his body. Instantly, his mouth went coppery with dehydration. He felt like he was going to go mad if someone didn't relieve this unbearable thirst....

Hang on until they come. Right. He always got the easy job.

  
Chapter Nine - What's Behind Door Number Three?

"Next floor - haberdashery, linen, ladies' underwear..."

Xander was watching the lift ping upwards, and gripping the knife in his hand.

"Who's got the time?" Buffy looked automatically at Giles - he was bound to be wearing a watch.

"It's just after 8am. We'll have plenty of time before the eclipse," he reassured her.

"Yeah - if we don't waste it all fighting hordes of scorpions on every floor."

"Somehow, I don't think our next challenge will involve scorpions again -"

The lift came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Buffy braced herself, but there were no brick walls or bugs - just a standard office hallway. Tan walls. Dim lights. Carpet - the regular kind, not the critter-kind. There was a section of open reception area in front of the lift entrance and then the hall stretched into the distance, ending somewhere further down, shrouded in gloom. Nondescript doors dotted the walls at intervals, all closed. Xander, feeling brave, poked his head around the side of the lift.

"Ah, hello?" His voice echoed down the hall. Nothing responded. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Well, it seems all clear. I guess this is where we get off." He was about to step out, when Giles grabbed him by the collar.

"Just - one moment, Xander. We should make sure that everything is as it seems." Giles narrowed his eyes at the corridor view, and reached into his back pocket, drawing out a small crumpled tube. He blinked and seemed to think of something, then held up the scrunched-up packet towards the other Scoobies, a bland expression on his face.

"Er - mint, anyone?"

They looked at him. Willow grinned. "Thanks, but I brushed before I left."

Buffy squinted in confusion. "You're gonna placate them with breath-fresheners?"

Giles gave her a look. "Of course not. But I wanted to try something -" And he tossed the packet out into the reception area. Where it fell through the floor. The Scoobies got a brief glimpse of endless blackness as the mints fell through space.

"Whoah!" Xander took a hurried step backwards. "Okay - remind me never to do the 'all-clear' thing again."

"Duly noted," Tara said drily.

"So - we can't step out. What now, do we close the lift again?" Buffy tried a button, but nothing happened.

"I guess not." Giles looked thoughtfully down the hallway. "But - let's see if... Willow, may I borrow your flail?"

She passed it over. "I wasn't using it anyway," she said with a shrug.

With a little wind-up, Giles threw the flail out past the reception area, into the hallway. Where it dropped to the floor safely.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Okay. Reception area - bad. Hallway - no problem. Now we just have to get over. I guess we jump."

"That seems to be our only option," Giles agreed. He made towards the back of the lift for a run-up. Buffy held him back.

"Hold on a sec here, Giles. I should go first - you don't know what's waiting on the other edge." She took a quick step back, then bolted for the hallway floor, her foot rising off the lintel of the lift on her last stride. It was any easy jump - in a blur of black leather, she rolled smoothly to stand on the other side, crossbow at the ready, but nothing nasty leapt out at her. She turned to face the other Scoobies still inside the lift.

"It's clear. Okay, who's next?"

Willow and Tara vaulted over the abyss, getting a push from Giles and Xander. Xander took the leap comfortably - then it was Giles' turn. He took a few steps back until he could feel the metal wall of the lift behind him.

"C'mon Giles!" Willow was all encouragement.

He shook his head, muttering. "Bloody athletics!" before taking the run-up and springing out on his final step. He hit the floor heavily, wobbled a bit on the edge - but the others were there to grab him. He looked a little flustered, but otherwise okay.

"Yay, Mr Giles!" Tara grinned.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, and looked ruefully at the Scoobies. "Long jump was never my forte."

Buffy smiled at him. "It's okay, we're all here. Now, what next?"

"Where does the hallway go to?" Willow asked.

"No idea - let me see..." Buffy walked down to the dim end of the corridor, until she encountered a blank wall. "Nothing," she called back. She walked back to the group, shaking her head. " It's a dead end."

"So, I s'pose we play 'what's behind door number three'," Tara said.

Willow looked warily at the array of options. "I guess the trick is working out which one is the right door."

They all looked down the hall - there were four doors on each side. Eight potential ways to Spike, or eight potential threats. Buffy sighed, and looked at Giles hopefully.

"Tell me you know which way to go now. Please."

He frowned down the corridor and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Buffy...but I don't. It seems as if Satis has set up an obstacle course for us, and I imagine that this is part of the puzzle."

Buffy sighed again, and turned to face the first door on the left. "Okay, well, I guess we just start from the top and work our way down." She looked over at the others. "Are you ready?" They nodded. "Here goes." She turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and raised a booted foot to break it down.

  
"No! No, no - not that one! The other one!"

Anya was leaning over an ornate hand-mirror on the counter. Dawn, who'd been poking around at the bookshelves, hurried back to the temporary proprietor of the Magic Box, a look of excitement on her face.

"Did you get it to work? I knew it would work - so what do you see?"

Anya was making faces at the mirror. Vulcan's Mirror was a useful tool for seeing past, present and the possible future as desired, but it could be notoriously difficult to activate. Dawn, feeling vindicated that her spell research had paid off, was now jostling for position, trying to see the images inside it.

"Yes, it works - but for what? We're just about to watch them all get killed!" Anya lamented, with much hand-wringing.

"Say what?" Alarmed, Dawn tried to see what was going on. She peered at the reflective surface, past a light mist around the edges. She could see stuff! This magic biz was so cool... There was Buffy, with Xander, Willow, Tara and Giles. They were standing in front of a door in a boring-looking hallway - it looked like Buffy was getting ready to bust the door down. Dawn hoped fervently that Spike was behind it; then they could rescue him and come home. On the other hand, she thought, looking down at Buffy's red sarong skirt that she was wearing, maybe they could come back a little later in the afternoon...

"What do you mean, 'they're gonna get killed'? It's just a door in an office building."

Anya shook her head, looking distraught. "No, no - it's the wrong door. Every door has a challenge behind it, and trust me, this one is sure to be bad." She looked to the heavens, wailing. "Oh, why couldn't they have taken me with them? At least I'd know what I was doing, instead of fumbling around aimlessly from one challenge to the next. At this rate, the eclipse will be over and they'll still be fighting off demons into next week."

"Wait - how do you know about this?"

Anya brushed off Dawn's query with a flick of her hand. "Oh, I used to run the Samian Maze, for some of the nastier suitors I came across - these labyrinth things all operate on the same principle, anyway. And everyone knows you never open the first door!"

Dawn took in Anya's worried, disgruntled face. "So what should they do? And can we get a message to them about it?"

"I don't know." Anya screwed up her nose. "Maybe." She looked at Dawn thoughtfully. "Well, I guess we can try - but I'll need your help."

Dawn smiled eagerly. "Great. What do you want me to do?"

"I'll need some candles, and some of that red thread behind the counter, and some herbs. Oh, and some of your hair."

Dawn, moving to collect the items, pulled up short.

"Come again?"

  
The door flung wide under the heel of her boot, but no sooner had Buffy opened it than she wished it closed again. A soof of air went past her cheek, then another. She heard the thunk of projectiles embedding themselves in wood behind her.

"Everyone duck!" she called out, as she hit the deck. The other Scoobies fell obligingly to the floor, watching the tiny arrows flying above their heads, flinging into the wall that had been at their backs.

"Enough with the arrows already!" Willow yelled into the dark behind door number one. The hail of arrows increased - not exactly the response she'd been after.

"Just stay low! I'm gonna..." Buffy, first in front of the door, scrambled forward on her stomach and reached out with her crossbow, trying to hook the edge of the door with the weapon. She felt her hair lift, as an arrow went by. Then she felt a stinging pain sear her right arm.

"Ow!"

"Buffy!" Xander rose on his elbows, but Buffy glared back at him.

"I said, stay low!. I'm fine - just gotta get this damn door-" Her straining paid off - the curved side of the bow caught the door, and she began pulling the thing closed. As she manoueverd the door closed, the unmistakable thudding of arrows pounding themselves into the wood sounded clearly. But when the door slid back into it's lock with a click, the sounds abruptly died.

The Scoobies exchanged glances. The door stayed shut. Giles rose to his feet shakily, and the others began to follow suit.

"Well - not the door I would have chosen, perhaps, if I'd known..."

"Now he tells me." Buffy rolled her eyes, then rubbed a hand down her forearm.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it's a scratch." The cut was superficial, and was already starting to heal.

"Well, I guess we know what's behind door number one, " Tara said. She had pulled an arrow out of the wall behind her, and was examining the short brown shaft with a look of distaste.

"Not the ideal way to find out, but yeah," Xander conceded.

Willow perused the other doors down the silent hallway. She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Great. We have to do this little experiment every time we open a door? But there's seven more doors!"

Buffy clenched her jaw, frustration and anger shadowing her face. "This is going to take forever! Not to mention, being way too dangerous. Giles, isn't there a better way to do this? There must be something we're missing..."

Giles had taken off his glasses, and was scratching his forehead, searching the corridor for clues that were not forthcoming. "Yes, I'm sure there is. I just wish I knew what it was."

  
Chapter Ten - Open Channels

Dawn was struggling with a number of large jars of herbs when she turned to look at Anya.

"Okay - we have about half an hour before we have to open the shop for business. Is that gonna be enough time?"

"Certainly. Now, just light the candles like I told you. Here's the charcoal for the censer."

Anya was presiding over a small patch of floor in the Magic Box, where Dawn had set up a spell circle. She'd used four candles, and salt, and she was fervently hoping that she'd done it all the right way. Willow had impressed upon her the need for spells to be done in a certain order, but Anya didn't seem to be all that worried about the conventions. The ex-demon had bundled up a few things she wanted and unceremoniously plonked herself down on the floor. At the moment, she was busy with a tangle of red wool, and a pair of scissors.

"That's fine, now come and sit here with me."

"You want me to help with the spell?" Dawn thought about Buffy's injunction not to fool around with special magicks. She figured that this probably qualified.

"Kind of. I need you to act as the conduit. We'll be speaking to them - or rather to Buffy, 'cos the link is strongest between you two - through you." Anya took in Dawn's wary expression. "Don't worry, silly - it's not going to hurt."

Dawn frowned. "Am I gonna get into trouble for this?"

Anya smiled at her confidently. "Absolutely not. In fact, probably the opposite. Buffy'll give you a big medal for saving the day." She didn't sound totally convincing.

But Dawn rarely needed convincing to do things she wasn't supposed to. With a shrug, she stepped into the circle and sat down opposite Anya. In the crosslegged and comfortable slump typical of all teenagers, she watched silently as Anya tried to unravel a length of wool from the muddled skein in her lap.

"Need a hand?"

"No, thank you, " Anya said a little waspishly, in spite of looking like she was doing a fair job of tying herself up into knots. Then the ex-demon sighed and gave up, thrusting the skein at Dawn. "Okay, fine. I need a piece about a foot long. And I need this too." And with a quick movement, she reached over and snipped off a lock of Dawn's hair with the scissors.

"Hey!!"

"I said I needed it for the spell."

"Well, yeah, but I was gonna cut it off myself. Great, now I'm lopsided in the front."

Anya just looked at her like a mother at a fussing toddler. "Dawn, it'll grow back. Now shush. I'm trying to remember what the words are... How does it go again? Open the ears of the one... Or is it , Let him who has ears to hear..?"

Dawn looked at Anya with a frown. She had a rising suspicion that Anya had only a limited knowledge of what she was doing, and if there was one thing that Dawn did know about magic, it was that it was always good to be pretty specific. Things could go awry too easily... Then she remembered what Anya had said about Buffy in the maze - 'the eclipse will be over and they'll still be fighting demons into next week.' Thay had to do something - if Buffy couldn't get through the maze in time, then Spike was gonna be dust. The whole idea gave her a distinct pang. Dawn sighed, and set herself to measuring off a length of the red wool.

A few minutes later, they were ready to start. Anya had the hair and wool in her lap, and Dawn was in charge of the herbs. Anya gave an excited grin.

"Okay, away we go." She closed her eyes, settled her expression into seriousness, and began intoning. "Hecate, Diana, Devi - Women of the underworld, hear the call of your supplicants. Spirits of the night, I invoke you now!"

The candle flames seemed to straighten in response. Dawn widened her eyes, then quickly lit the charcoal as she'd been instructed. She added handfuls of lotus and verbena powder, and the censer began to steam strongly. Anya coughed, cracked open an eye and glared at her. Her voice was a stage-whisper.

"Hey, go easy on the herbs, okay? My nose is starting to run."

"Oh, sorry."

Anya closed her eyes again and continued. "Goddess, we call you by name and ask your benediction - accept our offerings, made in love and gratitude. This special boon we ask, to open a channel from one friend to another, in trust. Bind this conduit to your will -" She held up the lock of Dawn's hair in her fingers, and twisted a short length of the red wool around it. As Dawn watched in amazement, when Anya released the woollen thread, it continued to wind around the hair like cotton winding onto a bobbin. When the short tuft of hair was completely bound in red, Anya held it out before her.

" - let her voice be the thread of connection, the voice of the Goddess for a friend in need..."

Dawn swallowed. Her voice - she was going to be the one to whisper in Buffy's ear, tell her the right way to go, the way to get Spike out. With luck, and a bit of magical intervention, Spike would be safe from that mean old blood-stealing Cleopatra chick...

"Dawn! I need you to concentrate for this!"

Dawn straightened. "Oh - okay, sure." She closed her eyes and tried to think about Buffy - Buffy in the maze, looking for the right door to Spike, Buffy rescuing Spike, Spike jumping up and punching out Cleopatra - take that, you vamp-napping Egyptian priestess, Evil Dead is back in action...

With the red-bound hair at arm's length, Anya touched it to one of the candles. It flared up brightly, giving off thick smoke as it charred and turned to ash. Anya wrinkled her nose.

"Ew - burning-hair smell always makes me want to heave. Now, where was I? Oh yeah - Goddess, let him who has ears to hear receive your words through this your vessel-" Anya leaned forward and, taking a smear of the ash onto her thumb, rubbed it lightly over Dawn's lips. Dawn felt a tingling, and when she pursed her lips together was surprised to feel no trace of ash there. She did feel something, though...a kind of strange butterfly-dance in her stomach...

Anya rung out the last of the incantation. "- and grant the light of your wisdom to the one we seek. Our will to you, our gratitude for your graciousness - our thanks, powers from the four corners of the earth. So mote it be."

The light of the candles dimmed back to normal, and Anya sat up straight, looking at Dawn with eagerness and curious anticipation.

"So? Do you feel anything? What - what's the matter?"

Dawn was shaking her head. "No, I don't think it worked. Well, I felt something, but only for a minute. Now I just feel like..I don't know -" She shrugged. "- just, kind of normal, I guess."

The ex-demon didn't appear to be too fazed. "Well, maybe you don't feel anything because you haven't tried it out yet. Here." She jumped up and went to the counter, then bustled back into the circle and sat down, the mirror in her hand. She passed it over to Dawn. "What do you see?"

Dawn squinted into the mirror. The mist around the edges of the image cleared, and she saw Buffy, and the others - what were they doing lying on the floor? It was kind of like watching a tv picture, a little fuzzy, and vaguely distorted, the way your face was when you looked into the back of a spoon. Bad reception, maybe. Hm. Dawn frowned, and tapped the edge of the mirror with her finger.

Anya was nudging her, and giving her encouraging smiles. "Go on - say something. Try it out."

She felt a little ridiculous, talking into a mirror. Eyebrows raised, Dawn gave Anya a querying look, then turned back to the mirror. Okay - here goes nothing.

"Buffy?" Her voice was low. Maybe she was too quiet - she raised her tone a notch. "Um, Buffy - can you hear me? Buffy, it's me."

Nothing happened. Or rather, something happened, but not what Dawn was expecting. When she spoke into the mirror, the faint vapour of her exhaled breath clouded the mirror's image briefly, and then it disappeared - not dissipating, in the way of normal breath, but really disappearing, like it was being sucked down through the silvered glass of the mirror. Weird. But as for a response from her sister - well, there really wasn't anything. Buffy didn't seem to look up, or hear anything. Not very promising. Feeling vaguely foolish for thinking that this might have been a good idea, Dawn frowned and glanced back at Anya.

"Anya, this isn't gonna work. I don't think the spell went right."

Anya looked kind of huffy. "But it has to work! I did everything the correct way - I think. No, no, just try again."

Dawn shook her head, and tried to be patient with Anya. "Really, I don't feel like it's gonna happen. I mean, shouldn't Buffy look around or something if she was hearing voices? Her expression didn't even change."

"Maybe you were too quiet - maybe you have to yell." Anya's expression was fretful. She so wanted the spell to work - she wanted to be of some help. Staying behind and looking after Dawn and the shop was a very responsible, adult thing to do, but it was so boring. She tried to encourage Dawn again with winning smiles.

Dawn just sighed. "It's okay, Anya." She patted the ex-demon on the back. "It's not your fault - maybe we're just not the two best witches in town is all." She swallowed, and felt a faint tickle there. Probably the smoke from the censer giving her a sore throat.

Anya's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Oh, alright. But if you feel something later, we can try again." She looked at the mess of witchcraft stuff on the floor. "Urgh - now comes the unpleasant part I always hate. Cleaning up."

Dawn smiled. "Yup, it's the inescapable evil - as Mom always says. Here, let me help..." She moved to get a broom from out the back. Damn, her throat really was kind of tight now - she stopped at the sink to get a glass of water. As she filled the glass, she swallowed again, and winced. She felt parched, like her throat was going to close up. And her mouth and lips felt horribly dry. She really hoped that this wasn't going to be another dose of the 'flu.

When she emerged from the back room with a straw broom and a full glass, she noticed that Anya had already cleared up most of the magic paraphernalia. There was just the salt circle and other bits of ash and herbs remaining. Dawn set to work with the broom, and made the floor presentable. Then she went back to the counter, raising her glass and draining it in long gulps.

Anya came back from unlocking the door to the shop. She perused Dawn curiously. "Thirsty work, huh?"

"Mm." Dawn nodded. "Yeah, I must be coming down with something. Hey, maybe that's why the spell didn't work." She leaned against the counter, feeling tired all of a sudden.

"Coming down with something? As in, an illness?" Anya tried to look concerned while maintaining a discreet distance. Then she saw Dawn's pasty face. "Are you okay?"

Dawn shrugged it off. "Yeah, I'm fine." She swallowed past the frog in her throat. "I don't know, my throat is sore. I just feel -

 

\- really dry. Like dessicated earth. He tried thinking about something else, like the last movie he saw. But that had been 'From Dusk Til Dawn', and the mental images of wet fountains of blood during the bar-brawl scene just made things worse.

God, he was going mental. In fact he had a sneaking suspicion that he really was going mental - a minute ago he'd thought he heard a voice in his ear. And not any voice either, but someone specific - the Slayer's sister.

Buffy, can you hear me?

He blinked his eyes wearily. It wasn't enough that he was about to expire from thirst, now he was having auditory hallucinations. And why the Niblet's voice, of all people? He was about to berate himself for being a perverted old man, when it came again.

Buffy, it's me.

Well I know it's you, luv, but I think you've got the wrong address. What the hell was going on? Oh, bollocks to this, he'd had enough. Electric shocks, painful blood-letting, now mystery voices asking after the Slayer... Spike sighed, let himself slump in the restraints. This was all becoming a bit too much.

And he felt in his gut the seriousness of that. He was weak, couldn't even struggle anymore. He'd been close to a stake plenty of times in his unlife, but this was the closest he thought he'd come to actually fading out. He didn't know how many times they'd sucked the stuffing out of him, but he didn't think he could take much more. 'Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?' Well there couldn't be a lot left. He was right on the edge.

Whatever was going to happen - if Buffy really was coming - it'd better be soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Eleven - Half Full, Not Half Empty

"You can't say it was my fault!"

"Actually, yes, I can. Who else opened the door? The door fairies?"

"I already said it was an accident!"

"An accident? Oh, you accidentally put your hand on the door handle, and it accidentally opened? Please, give me a break, Xander!"

"Fine, just put the blame all on me - you're just itching for a fight, is all. You're just antsy about Spike."

"What?! Oh, that is low. You are such a -"

Oh, will you two please shut up. You sound like a pair of old ladies, and I'm trying to concentrate." Giles retrieved his glasses from the floor - damn, one lens was broken - and stood between the bickering pair.

The Slayer's face was pink from earlier exertions, and from Xander's last comment. The screeching didn't help - bad for the complexion. Meanwhile, Xander's hair was in disarray, and he and Buffy were eyeing each other off poisonously. Giles frowned at them both.

"Now - call a truce. We don't have time for this, and there's been more than enough fighting already." He looked peevish. The last thing they needed was to be arguing amongst themselves. They were in enough trouble as things stood.

Willow stepped forward from one side, where she and Tara had been taking cover, and tried to be placating.

"Come on, guys, Giles is right. Chill out." She placed a settling hand on Xander's shoulder. He still looked angry. "I know we're all strung out - but it's gonna be okay. We know you didn't mean to open another door, Xan." She looked over at Buffy, who had straightened and was trying to smooth her hair and her composure. "Really, he didn't, Buffy."

Buffy was staring at the floor. "Sure. Fine." She looked up and sighed. "I just - it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm just tired." She glanced grudgingly at Xander. It was his turn.

Xander rubbed his face, where a long livid scratch marked one cheek, and then gave in. "Oh, okay, okay. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I opened the door. I really didn't mean to. It was stupid, true, and it nearly got Tara killed." He glanced over at Tara, an apologetic grimace contorting his face. "Really, very sorry about that."

Tara waved it away. "Oh, s'okay, I'm fine." Her face was still pasty though, and her shirt was ripped at the top, the collar half torn off. She gave a shaky grin. "I'll get over it. I mean, I may carry a fear of large dogs for the rest of my life, but I'll deal."

"Jackals." Giles was trying to fix his crooked spectacles absently, while keeping an eye on Buffy and Xander. "They were jackals. But they certainly were nasty."

"Very. " Willow nodded vehemently. "But they're gone now. And there's only four doors to go."

"Right. Halfway there is good." Xander was trying to recover lost ground - he still looked a bit embarrassed. "Are you sure you're okay, Buffy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Buffy sighed, and picked up her crossbow from the floor at her feet. "And halfway is definitely good." She gave Xander a conciliatory smile.

"Yeah," Willow prompted. "I think we should be aiming for the 'half-full not half-empty' approach."

Giles nodded his agreement, thanking the heavens for Willow's soothing presence. "Yes - we've coped with arrows, mist, winds, and jackals so far, with no major injuries. I think we're doing extremely well. We just have to proceed carefully from here..." He skewered Xander with a glance. "...and stay focussed." This time he caught Buffy's eye.

"Okay, right. Focus." Buffy's face went suitably mortified, then she let it go and started reloading. She looked around at the others. "So is everyone happy? Giles, do you think we can stop for a rest?"

He checked his watch and frowned. "I'd like to say yes, but I'm afraid that time is getting away from us. It's nearly ten o'clock, so we only have two more hours, and we don't know what lies ahead after these challenges." He said it reluctantly - he was feeling rather tired himself. They'd all rested before setting out for L.A., but this seemingly endless round of battles was draining.

Everyone was looking decidedly peaky. Tara had borne the brunt of the last attack, but both she and Willow had burned up a lot of energy by wielding magic so often. Of all of them, Xander was the freshest, but there was still a long way to go. And Buffy's face was pale, in spite of her Slayer strength. More than anything it was the anticipation of something, the not knowing what lay just around the corner, that wore on them all the most. Giles felt like they'd been inside Heliopolis forever.

Now they'd all regained their breath, Giles walked through the group, leading them back to the top of the hall, to Door Five. He stood with his hand loosely on the handle as they all gathered around.

"Are we ready?" He looked at everyone.

Buffy stood at point, crossbow at the ready. Xander was on one side of her, and the two witches on the other.

"As we'll ever be," muttered Willow. Everyone braced for action.

"Alright." Giles took a breath. "Here we go." He turned the door handle, and quickly pushed it open and jumped to one side.

Nothing happened. The door swung open smoothly, but nothing came out. Buffy frowned. This was strange.

"The room looks empty."

She took a tentative step forwards, looked inside. Nothing. It was a plain office room - four tan walls, carpet, no windows,no furniture.

"Weird," Tara said.

Giles looked around the door at the empty room. "Hm. Perhaps we're supposed to enter..." He tried the 'flail-throwing' trick again, this time with his pocket handkerchief. It fluttered to the floor. No response.

"Maybe we got lucky," Xander suggested. "Maybe Satis forgot to fill this one up with badness."

"Doesn't really sound like her style," Willow replied.

"No, it doesn't. " Giles looked at the Scoobies. "Well, I suppose there's nothing for it but to try going in." And before Buffy could protest, he took a few steps inside, just past the door.

Nothing.

"How odd." He surveyed the room, and turned to address the Scoobies outside. "I think it's empty. Xander might be right."

At which point the door abruptly moved, slamming closed in their startled faces. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Giles heard the lock click in place.

"Or not," he said quietly. Oh dear.

There was a snicking noise from above. Giles stared up to see half a dozen small vents open in the ceiling. Bloody hell, what now? He had his answer after a few seconds, when sand began pouring out of each vent. Normal sand, pouring down in a glistening shower. Giles looked at the rapidly forming mounds circled around him. A lot of sand.

He could hear thumping on the other side of the door.

"Giles!! Giles, what's going on?" Buffy's voice, high-pitched and anxious. "Xander, let me try."

The thumping became a steady pounding - Buffy seemed to be throwing her considerable strength against the door, to no effect. Giles could hear the voices of the others, a muffled babble.

He went to the door and tried the handle, which held fast, naturally. He projected his voice through to the other side. "Buffy, can you hear me? It's alright - I'm still here. It's just sand."

"Shush for a sec, guys. Giles! What's going on?"

"It's sand, Buffy. Coming from the ceiling." He looked back at the room - the floor was awash with sand now, a miniature sea of the stuff flowing out from the ever-rising hills in the middle. The room was small, and he now became aware of exactly how small. The sand was almost ankle deep, and it had taken only a few minutes.

"Ahm, I think it might be a good idea to get me out of here as soon as humanly possible."

"Giles, hang on. We're working on it."

The sounds of thumping at the door changed, and it now became obvious that both Xander and Buffy were shoulder to shoulder, trying to ram their way in. Whether the brute-force method was going to work remained to be seen, however. The door looked like it was made of some flimsy material, as per standard office construction everywhere, but it didn't even budge under the attack. Giles surveyed the rapidly filling floorspace, and decided to try something of his own. He stood back a little from the door, held up a hand towards it and pronounced a Word. He'd done a little defensive research of his own, prior to leaving Sunnydale, and had a few tricks up his sleeve - and one of them was an understanding of certain words of power from the older languages, words that were tuned very closely to the physical vibrations of their meanings. Say the Word, and you could produce the desired effect. Such as the Word for 'open', which he'd just tried.

Yes. Well, it had sounded good in theory.

Suddenly, Willow's voice came above the din of the door. "Giles! What are you doing in there? You just wrecked the opening spell we were working on."

"Oh - sorry. You try first." He felt a warmth at his knees, and looked down to see the rising tide of sand swelling against his legs. "Er, can I suggest quickly."

He heard a rise of voices outside, a light tone and a lower one, intertwined to create something altogether new. There was a brief moment of dislocation, an odd feeling in the air, and his ears popped, as though he was at a high altitude. But the door stayed shut.

Tara's voice now. "Sorry, Giles. We just tried a spell, but it didn't work. I think there might be some kind of protection around the door. You wanna try?"

"Alright. Stand away - if this does work, the door could blow outwards." He heard a shuffling as the Scoobies repositioned themselves outside. Then he tried the Word again, and once again it produced no discernible result.

"Giles?"

"Ah, give me a moment."

He tried again - this time the Word for 'disintegrate', which could also translate as 'shatter'. But he felt it himself, the blocked sensation that Willow and Tara had obviously encountered before. It was like trying to swallow past a lump in your throat, or pushing against an invisible barrier.

"No - this isn't going to work. There's definitely something blocking magic on the door."

He could hear more shuffling outside.

"What are you doing out there?" He listened at the door, and Buffy's voice came in reply.

"Giles, don't stress, we're trying to get you out. Just hold tight."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," he sighed. He looked around at the room again, at the waterfall of sand falling from the ceiling. Then he did the only thing he could think of - he pulled his legs up out of the mound he was in up to his knees, slipped off his shoes, and tried to settle himself in a spot that wasn't filling up so rapidly.

Out in the hallway, Xander was trying to prise open the lock with his dagger.

"Hang on...it feels like it's gonna - ow!" The tip of the knife abruptly snapped off, lodged in the seam of the door. Xander held up his broken knife and frowned at it.

"Well, so much for that. Someone give me a crowbar and I'll be a happy man."

Buffy was getting seriously worried now. "Come on, there has to be something we can do. If we don't get him out, he'll be buried alive in there."

Giles' muffled voice came from behind the door. "Thank you, Buffy, that idea had occurred to me."

Buffy winced. "Sorry, Giles. We're just wracking our brains here." She turned to Willow and Tara. "Can we use anything else to batter the door down?" She caught Xander's eye. "There wasn't anything in the lift, was there? A fire-axe or something? Maybe we have to go back and get something..."

Xander shook his head. "I didn't see anything on the way up. And there's nothing here in the hall. I mean, we could try breaking it down again ourselves, but I think if I keep going with that I'll probably just break my shoulder or something."

"Xander's right," Willow said. "There's nothing else we can use. Maybe we could try another spell..."

Then Tara, who'd been contemplating the door, looked at Buffy. "I have an idea. It may be a long shot, but..."

Buffy rounded on her. "Shoot. I'm game for anything at this point."

"Well," Tara began slowly, "maybe we don't have to go back - maybe we have to go forward. I don't know if you'll like this, but I have a feeling that somehow these challenges may be interlinked."

Willow got excited. "Oh, oh, yeah - I know what you mean. Like, this one has to be defeated by using something from the next one. Like a computer game."

Tara shrugged. "Like I said, it's an idea. But I'm not sure about it, and..." She left the sentence hanging, looking over at Buffy.

"...and it means that we may have to open another door." Buffy finished. Her expression said that she didn't think much of this new plan. She chewed on her lip. "I don't know, guys, we seem to have enough trouble taking on these challenges when there's all of us to fight. I don't know if we can do this without Giles."

"Do what?" Giles' sounded a bit peeved at being left out of all the important conversations.

Buffy called through the door. "Giles, Tara has an idea I want to run by you. She thinks that maybe we have to go on to the next challenge to find something to get the door open."

"Oh, I see. Like one of those computer game thingies."

Willow raised an eyebrow at Tara - she hadn't thought that Giles even knew what a computer game was.

There was a pause, then his voice went on. "I see. Well, if that's our only option then I have to agree. But you better hop to it. It's getting rather, er, flooded in here."

Buffy looked back at the others. She didn't like it, but there didn't seem to be anything else they could do. She sighed. "Okay - let's do it. Oh, wait, there's one problem. Which door do we open?"

She looked around at them - Tara shrugged, Willow looked equally confused, Xander just frowned at the remaining three doors. Oh nuts. All the big decisions came down to her. She straightened her shoulders, took the standard 'have-a-guess' approach,and pointed at the next door along the hallway, on their left.

"Okay. That one."

  
Chapter Twelve - Charlie's Angels in the Hall of Doors

  
"Wow, it sure is bright."

"Not for long. In about an hour, the sun will be completely covered over. Take a good look - you won't see another one of these for about, oh, another couple of thousand years. Cool, huh?"

Anya and Dawn stood on the pavement outside the door of the shop, wearing sunglasses, peering skyward. Dawn gazed at the spectacle of the black disc of the moon beginning to shadow it's opposite, and the glowing brilliance of the sun as it prepared to wink out. Other people were standing out in the street, some of them talking together and looking at the impending eclipse. All Dawn could think about was that, if Buffy couldn't get there in time, a friend of hers was going to be winking out as well. She began to get fidgetty, and scratched at her still-sore throat.

"Maybe we should go inside and check on Buffy's progress."

"Okay. You wanna try the spell thing again too?"

Dawn frowned and removed her glasses. "Maybe. But I still think it was a no-goer."

Anya turned towards the shop. "Well, I'll get the mirror anyway. At least I get to see Xander."

Watching Anya head back inside, Dawn was thinking about other things. Like the fact that it was a total bummer that the spell hadn't worked. It would have been great to be able to help Buffy and the others; it was frustrating, just watching from a distance and being powerless to do anything. She'd had her hopes up during the spell, looking at all the herbs and candles, listening to the words, thinking about getting Spike out of that damn tower -

Wait.

Wait just a goddamn second, and back up right there. She'd been thinking about Spike during the spell, and then she'd felt that funny tingle in her gut, when Anya had said the incantation. Then they'd tried it out, and nothing had happened...

Dawn suddenly got a terrible suspicion. She turned and headed back into the shop, meeting Anya halfway as she came towards the steps.

"Anya! Anya, have you got the mirror?"

The ex-demon looked confused. "Well, yes - you just said you wanted..."

"Sure, and I do. But I just thought of something. What if the spell did work?"

Now Anya looked both surprised and pleased at the same time, chuffing Dawn on the shoulder cheerily. "See, that's the spirit! I told you to think positive -"

Dawn shook her head impatiently. "No, it's not that. I mean what if my voice is going into someone else's ear, not Buffy's."

Anya shrugged it off. "But...no, that couldn't be it. I mean, we said the right words, and you were there, I told you to concentrate and then I touched you with the ash..."

"And I was concentrating - just not on Buffy." Dawn looked gracefully embarrassed.

Anya put her hands on her hips. "Well, then who exactly were you -"

"Spike. I was thinking about Spike."

Anya's shoulders slumped, and her face registered vexation. "Well - duh! I told you to concentrate on your sister! Then we definitely have a problem - which is in no way my fault, I want to add."

"Whatever," Dawn said. "but I think we better check it out and see first. Let's try the mirror again." She took the proffered object from Anya, and pulled up a chair at the research table, laying the mirror down flat. Through the mists around the edges, Dawn could see the figures of the Scoobies standing in the same hallway as before. She squinted at the image.

"Geez, what are they doing, having a bake-sale? And where's Giles?" She looked at Anya, who'd settled herself leaning over the table, propped up on her elbows. "Okay, I'm gonna try this one more time with Buffy, just for the record. Here's goes."

Dawn tilted towards the mirror face. "Buffy, can you hear me? Buffy, I need you to make a sign that you can hear me." Once again, her voice's breath was sucked down into the mirror, the mist seemingly absorbed right through the silver surface. She and Anya peered at the figures in the mirror. Buffy looked to be involved in some deep discussion with Tara, Willow and Xander. She didn't look around, nod, or do anything at all to suggest that some weird voice had just echoed straight in her ear.

Dawn looked at Anya again. "I think that settles it. The Buffy Radio is definitely not receiving any of this. I think it's time to try Spike."

Anya nodded, finally acknowledging the truth. "I guess so." She was looking at the moving pictures of the Scoobies in the mirror, her eyes becoming gooey. "Oh, look at my darling Xander! Isn't he handsome? Oh, I wish he was back here right now. This whole boyfriend-constantly-in-mortal-danger thing is getting kind of tired, you know?"

Dawn just raised her eyebrows. "Yeah. Okay. So...issue at hand, you know - spell-thing, Spike, yada yada. Um, how do we tune this thing in? Do we have to go through the whole activation rigmarole again?"

Anya drooped a little at having to return to reality, rather than contemplate her boyfriend; she grimaced, trying to remember what she knew about the mirror's workings. "You might need that book of Giles' again, I don't recall the ritual exactly. But I don't think it's as involved." She tilted her head, deep in thought. "No - it's not too complicated. You get the book and I'll get the crystal."

"The crystal?"

"Of Phygiria. It's just a plain-looking crystal, but you need it to tune the mirror."

Dawn's eyebrows raised again. "And...Giles' just happens to have one of these lying around out the back somewhere?"

Anya looked at her, innocent of the sarcasm. "Oh yes. It's pointless to have Vulcan's Mirror if you don't have a crystal of Phygiria."

"Right. Of course it is." Dawn just gave a lopsided 'ye-gods' grin, then went for the book, as Anya went off towards a display case, rattling her keys.

The ritual for re-tuning the mirror turned out to be pretty easy, involving Dawn holding the crystal over the mirror and thinking of the person she wanted to see, while Anya recited the usual mystical incantation. Anya finished the words, and dropped the large vellum book down, to peer over the top.

"Anything? I'm almost afraid to ask, after the last spell we did."

Dawn examined the mirror. "It's misty, there's nothing yet. I know what you mean, though - this spell stuff is harder than it looks. And the incantations are all so corny - I've written better poetry myself, for school...oh, wait a sec. Oh, oh, I see something!"

Anya leaned in, and they bumped heads over the mirror's surface.

"Ow. I can't see - oh, yes, there he is."

"That's Spike, alright. What's he on, an operating table? Kinky Egyptians, huh? Oh god, he looks terrible..."

Anya examined the picture. "Hm, he looks even paler than he usually does. And he has those funny dark circles around his eyes, Xander calls them raccoon eyes. Which I didn't understand at all until I saw a picture of a raccoon. Oh, look - it looks like they're preparing him for the renewal ritual. See the tray? There's a puseshkuf knife, and a disembowelling hook, and...oh, I can't make out that other thing."

Dawn looked sickened. Then she squared herself at the mirror, edging Anya aside.

"Alright, let's see if this works. Keep your fingers crossed." She leaned towards the mirror - Anya quickly crossed her fingers and held them up in front of her face, like she was warding off a demon. Dawn took a breath, and spoke into the mirror, willing the connection to be true, to be real.

"Spike? Can you hear me, Spike - it's Dawn"

And on the plinth, in the image, Spike's eyes winced open. Dawn grabbed Anya's hand excitedly, and spoke again.

"Spike, if you can hear me, nod once."

And Spike nodded.

"It works!" Dawn and Anya bounced up and down, thrilled at their own cleverness. Then Dawn turned back to the mirror. "Oh, poor Spike, he's got no idea what's going on. Better fill him in." She spoke to the image again. " Spike, it's a spell, Anya and me did it. We have a mirror thing, we can see you but we can't hear you, okay?"

Spike nodded in response. He mouthed a word soundlessly.

Anya frowned. "What was that?"

Dawn was smiling, but her eyes were edged with tears as she looked at the mirror. She was no lip-reader, but she'd heard that alright.

"He's talking to me," she said softly. "He said 'Niblet'"

  
Buffy pressed her ear against the door, trying to get a faint clue as to what might be inside. Pulling away, she cast a hopeful glance back at Willow and Tara.

"Don't guess that you guys could, maybe, do a little spell, tell me what's in here or something, huh?"

Tara could only shake her head regretfully. "I wish we could, but there's some kind of block on all these doors. We can use magic to fight, but that's about it. Sorry, Buffy."

Xander stepped forward. "You want me to open the door? You three can do the Charlie's Angels face-off thing."

Buffy considered carefully, then nodded and moved away, letting Xander take her place. "Just make sure you step aside quickly," she reminded him.

"No problem. Okay - ready?" He looked at the three women standing in preparedness, then turned the handle. "Open sesame."

With a soft click of the lock, the door swung open and Xander jumped neatly to one side. Beyond the lintel there was, again, only a seemingly impenetrable darkness. Nothing jumped out to face them. The Scoobies peered inside.

"Ah, hello?"

"Remember, Buffy - there's no such thing as an empty room."

"Right." Buffy shifted uneasily, her crossbow propped along one arm. She stepped forward and used the edge of the crossbow to push the door a little wider. The blackness inside was complete. Whatever was in there, it was good at concealing itself.

"Geez, these things are never straightforward, are they?" she muttered. She turned her head to look back at Willow, Tara and Xander. "Looks like another sneaky one, guys. I'm gonna try going inside..."

The sound of Willow's sudden gasp reverberated in the silence of the hall. Buffy flinched, and raised her bow into the doorway.

"What? Where is it?"

Behind her, Xander's voice was quiet, and gently quavering.

"Buffy - you need to stay really still."

Buffy stiffened, and turned her head around slowly to see the others. They were all standing frozen, their eyes angled downwards, ghastly expressions on their faces. And that was when she felt the soft touch on her ankle. Very slowly, she tilted her head to see around the crossbow, looked down - and saw the glistening black thinness twining itself around her feet. The snake was slim but long, and as she watched, it's head, a flat black diamond, appeared from behind her ankle and settled itself on the top of her boot. Over the edge of the doorway another snake emerged, seemingly composed of the inkiness from which it had come, and oozed out into the hallway.

"Uh...guys? Guys, I can't move here." Buffy's voice was barely above a whisper, and the carefully checked fear in her voice roused the others from their inaction.

"Ah, Buf? Just stand very still, and we'll try and work something out, okay?" Xander tried to sound reassuring, held out a hand towards her.

There was a sudden pounding to their right. Everyone jumped, the snake on Buffy's boot reared up at the movement, baring it's fangs, and her breath hitched in her throat.

An indistinct voice penetrated the quiet in the hall. "Buffy? Xander? What's going on out there?"

"Giles," Willow breathed. She raised her voice, tried to project through the other door from where she was standing. "Um, Giles, it's a little hairy out here - give us a minute, okay?"

It wasn't exactly hairy - more like 'slithery'. Two more snakes had slid out of the doorway, and there was now a dangerous little nest of intertwining bodies wrapped around Buffy's feet. She was standing as motionless as possible, even her breath dropped to a shallow gasping. She closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again with alarm as she felt the muscular coils tightening around her legs.

"Like I said, I think I need a little help here," she said evenly, her glance darting over towards the other Scoobies.

It was Tara who spoke up in reply. "Okay, Buffy - I'm going to try something. Just stay there and don't move."

"'Kay."

Tara nodded, then in a smooth movement she sidestepped away from Willow's left. The snakes responded to the motion, one of them nosing towards the vibrations.

"Tara!" Willow's voice was trembling.

"Tara, I hope you know what you're doing," Xander warned softly.

She kept her eyes firmly on the serpents, and spoke in low, even tones. "It's okay. I've had a little experience. My brother used to keep snakes, in a fishtank."

"As you do," Xander muttered.

"I think you ought to know that snakes are deaf, so they can't hear your voices. But their senses of smell and vision are both good, and they respond to movement." Tara looked up at the Slayer briefly. "Buffy, you holding up okay?"

"Sure," Buffy replied stiffly. She licked her lips. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but I really hate snakes."

Tara grinned faintly, her eyes down. "Yeah - you, me, and Indiana Jones."

Willow eeped as a snake slithered in her direction. She flapped a hand towards it. "Shoo! Go away!"

"Honey, remember what I said - movement and visuals. You wave at it like that and you're just gonna attract it's attention."

"Oh." Willow stopped waving abruptly. "So...now what do we do?"

Tara took a a breath. "Okay. Well, there's only four, that's one each. There's one heading my way, and Willow, you've got one in front of you. Xander, I want you to move a few steps to the right. Just go slow - you want to draw one away from Buffy."

Xander released a quavering breath. "I don't know if I can do this."

Tara gave him an encouraging glance. "It's okay, just take your time."

"Okay. Manly strength, manly strength," he muttered. Then he took two rapid steps over to the other side. The sudden movement drew one of the serpents towards him - it moved alarmingly quickly, an undulating whip of motion, and reared up in front of him. He got a nasty glimpse of the red inside of it's mouth as it hissed at him.

"Xander, slowly!" Tara gestured him to stop moving. "Just stay still. Don't aggravate it any further."

"Aggravate it!" he shot back out of the side of his mouth. "What about how it's aggravating me?"

"Xander, you need to relax. Snakes are very sensitive to vibes."

He gave a pitiful bark of desperate laughter. "Oh, I'm totally relaxed. Standing in front of a venomous reptile always relaxes me."

"Then how do you think I feel?" Buffy snapped. The serpent around her ankle was weaving hypnotic patterns in and out between her legs. She didn't want to look down, and she was starting to feel a cramp in her calf from the effort of standing so completely motionless. She looked over at Tara. "Now what? We're all paired up, do we start tangoing or something?"

Tara was watching each serpent carefully. "Now, I want to do a spell. It should get rid of the snakes, but you're all going to have to trust me because I need you to let me take control of your eyes for a little while."

"What?" Xander looked up at the blonde witch.

Willow turned her head to face Tara. "The 'eyes-bright' spell? Are you sure about this?"

Tara nodded. "I really have a handle on it now, and it's the best spell for what I have in mind. If I get a little fuzzy afterwards, you'll have to cover for me until I recuperate."

"What do you mean 'a little fuzzy'?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her mind off the feeling of the tightening around her ankle.

"It's nothing."

"It means," Willow glared at Tara, then looked at Buffy. "that she'll be temporarily blinded. The last time we did this she was seeing three of me for four hours afterwards."

"But, hey, that was fun." Tara tried to make light of it. "And I'm much better at it now." She appealed to Buffy. "Really, I think this could work."

Buffy shook her head, reluctant to get involved in a spat between the two witches. "It's up to you, guys. But, um, I think we better move on this. Giles is waiting, too, remember. And my legs are seizing up here."

Willow grimaced, then looked at the serpent weaving slowly in front of her feet, and nodded at Tara.

"Okay, great. Now, I want you all to close your eyes."

"You're putting me in a very nervous-making-type situation here," Xander warned. His snake had started sniffing around his shoes, it's tongue flicking out at intervals for a quick taste.

"It's okay. Just relax, and close 'em."

They all complied. Willow whispered towards Tara, her eyes shut tightly. "Good luck. Hey, you need candles for this."

"No problem." Tara extended one open palm in front of her, and blew on it gently. A small handfire ignited, flickering eerily over her skin. Then she took a relaxing breath and began speaking soft words, in Latin. The murmur slid on the air between the Scoobies, a living thing that penetrated each mind sinuously, coaxed calm and relinquishment. Buffy felt a tingling sensation behind her eyelids, and found that she couldn't open her eyes.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Willow whispered a soothing reply. "It's okay, Buffy. Just let Tara take over, she knows what she's doing."

Tara's voice dipped to a deep lulling sigh. Then she paused, and uttered a final, commanding word - and everyone's eyes snapped open. It was weird, Buffy decided. Like being drunk, seeing double - or in this case, quadruple. In each facet of their vision there was a snake on the floor, each one in a different position, some darting their tongues out, some just curling around langorously. Buffy was tempted to blink and clear her head, but she didn't want to interfere with the spell.

Tara's voice sounded quiet and dispassionate. "I know that your eyes feel strange, but just go with it. I can see everything that you see. The next part of the spell will be a bit uncomfortable, I want you all to relax and let me handle it."

She held her handfire out in front of her face, while keeping focussed on controlling the separate visions of the snakes. Little beads of sweat began forming on her forehead, and she began intoning the next spell with an effort of will. "Mafdet, Goddess protector, your servant calls. With trusting mind, I open to your will. Feline predator, aid me now in confrontation with this old enemy. Use my eyes to wreak your vengeance..."

There was a slow burn building behind Buffy's eyes. If she wasn't so scared of moving, she'd have rubbed her hand against them. Then the heat ignited - she felt like her eyes were on fire, and realised that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. But even as she prepared to cry out in pain, she saw the multi-facetted views of the snakes ripple, as the serpents rose in unison and spat towards each person. They looked incredibly pissed-off, but the aggression wasn't the attacking kind - it was like they were facing off against an adversary. Their hoods and mouths were open, and they moved fast, weaving high and lashing their tails.

Then Tara took a single step towards the snakes, and spoke a stream of words in a language that Buffy didn't recognise. The serpents suddenly sprang together, and wove themselves into a thick, pulsating mass of blackness. There was a high keening noise, which Buffy realised was Tara, and the writhing serpents rose in a four-strand plait, a bizarre uraeus of living creatures - and then just as suddenly, they dissolved, skin, then flesh, falling away, until only a twisted skeleton of snakes remained. The collection of thin bones hung upright in the air for a brief moment, before collapsing onto the ground, smashing and sending needles of delicate bone to all corners of the hall. With a creak, the door to the snake-room flew shut and banged into place.

And it was over - there was a searing sensation and then Xander, Buffy and Willow looked around, their eyes once again their own. They glanced over just in time to see Tara, head lolling, take a toppling fall onto the carpet.

"Tara!" Willow jumped forward, and managed to grab Tara's waist and arm and prevent a painful bump. She lowered her onto the floor. Buffy and Xander closed the gap and tried to help Willow. As they propped Tara against Willow's chest, the blonde witch's eyes rolled open. Xander gasped. There was no white, no colour, but a glowing yellow and a black slit-like pupil - a cat's eyes in a girl's face.

Willow spoke hurriedly. "It's okay - it's the residue of the spell. Give her a minute." She looked down at her lover's slick face with a frightened expression. "I think she'll recover soon. I mean, I hope so."

"Will, what did she do? I heard her call on a goddess..." Buffy put a hand on Willow's shoulder comfortingly. Willow nodded.

"She asked Mafdet to take over her eyes - our eyes. Mafdet is an old Egyptian goddess, who takes on badduns and protects the weak. She also has a reputation for fighting off snakes."

"So, Tara just channelled a goddess?" Xander seemed a bit bothered - either by the fact that his eyes had just been possessed, or that he fell into the 'weak' category.

"Yeah," Willow admitted. "Sorry about the burning - I knew that would happen but I couldn't really tell you, she needed you to be relaxed."

"Well, it did the trick, either way," Buffy said, looking around at the snake-debris. Then she gazed down at Tara with concern. "Will she be okay?"

Willow nodded. "I think so. She just needs to rest for a second." She rubbed one of Tara's cold hands in her own, and muttered. "Come on, baby. Come back to me, that's it."

Tara coughed weakly and her eyes opened again - they were back to their usual brown. But she still looked very pale, and her voice was thready. "Are they all gone?"

"Yeah, honey, they're gone now." Willow kept chafing her lover's hand. "Just take it easy, you did good."

Buffy straightened and rose. "I hate to break this to you all, but we haven't got time for this. The snakes are gone, and we're one door down, but we still need a weapon. and Giles is..."

Giles was banging on the door again. Buffy hurried over and called out to him. "Hey, Giles, you okay in there?"

"That could be a subject for debate." His voice came from behind the door with an edge of testiness. "What are you lot doing out there?"

"It's alright, Giles - we had a run-in with a few more of Satis' nasties, but it's over. What's the sand situation?"

Giles contemplated his reply, but not for too long. The sand was now up to his waist, or would have been if he was standing in it. He'd taken up position by the edge of the door, sitting on the mound, and was eyeing off the rapidly dwindling space between sand and ceiling.

"Er, not good. Did you find anything in the room?"

Buffy grimaced, wishing that she could see her Watcher, or at least see inside the room to make a judgment call. "No, Giles, we didn't - I'm sorry. The last room had snakes, not weapons." She sucked on her lip, worried about what she should do. "Do you want us to keep going?"

"I don't think we have any other options. You can't force the door, and we can't open it with magic. You'll have to try the next door, Buffy."

"Okay." She leaned her head tiredly against the wood of the door. "Are you okay, Giles? Is there anything we can do?"

He could hear the anxiety in her voice, and the frustration. He swallowed his own discomfort and unease, and tried to sound reassuring. "No, Buffy, I'm fine. Just keep going. And, Buffy..."

"Yeah?"

"I really think you should hurry, at this point."

There was a trace of fear now in his voice, and Buffy didn't like it. It hardened her resolve, and she straightened. "Okay, Giles, we're on it. Don't worry - we'll get you out."

She turned to the others. Tara was still looking woozy in Willow's arms, and Xander and Willow both had a touch of battle-fatigue about them. Unfortunately, they had no time to rest.

"Sorry, guys, but we need to move."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, we heard. Tara, are you okay to stand?"

Tara began pushing herself up groggily. "I'm fine. Really. Where's the next door?"

"Hold it, there, SuperWiccan." Buffy went to her and helped her to stand, but steadied her attempt to move towards the next challenge. "I think we can try and handle this one - you go sit over near the door with Giles."

"But I'm fine!" Tara protested, swaying on her feet.

"Yeah, right." Buffy cocked an eyebrow at her. "That's why you look like a big wobbly piece of jello. Take a rest, girl."

Tara started to retort, but Willow distracted her with a hand around her waist and a shoulder to lean on, and began leading her towards the door. "Buffy's right, hon. Come here and sit down. You can talk to Giles and keep us updated."

Tara gave in. "Oh, okay." She leaned weakly against the door, tried a limp grin on Willow. "And I can watch your backs from here. Knock 'em dead."

"That's the spirit, "said Xander. He rapped loosely on the door. "Hey Giles, you've got company." Then he and the others walked back down the hallway to face the seventh door.

"Yes?" Giles' voice sounded out into the hall.

"It's me - Tara," she called back. "I'm here to keep you in the loop. Buffy and Willow and Xander have gone to open the next door."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"I'm on sick leave," she answered glumly.

"You weren't injured?"

"No - well, kind of." She sighed. "The last spell sort of wasted me."

"Oh." Giles' voice held concern, then the faint colour of a smile. "Well, it's nice to have company."

Tara smiled in return. "Thanks, Giles."

  
Chapter Thirteen - The Beginning

Everything was in readiness.

After the bustle of the technicians, the antechamber was silent - the staff had withdrawn at her command, leaving the trays of ceremonial implements standing to one side of the bed, in preparation. The sun was waning now - she could feel it - and she wanted to spend these last few moments alone with her husband, renewing her sense of him, renewing her promises.

She lay full length on the bed, the swathes of cool pale linen adorning her a counterpoint to the dark blue satin of the bedspread. The gold and jet at her neck crunched lightly between her skin and the sheets. She trailed one soft hand down the line of her husband's face, felt the thinness of the skin, and the line of bone beneath. Felt the heartbeat - slowed now almost to inconsequence - and the breathing, the rise and fall of his chest barely peceptible.

With a sadness born of centuries of love, Satis allowed herself to mourn.

She cried for the passing of the old man, the life they'd shared together, the knowledge that her turn was to come. Years from now, she too would grey, would age - and for her there would be no returning. Not in this body, not with this mind. Her soul would be alone again - until he found her, reclaimed her. But he would be a different man, a new man, a new essence. With each renewal, he altered slightly. He was like a jewel, with a multitude of facets through which the same soul burned. Their spirits were joined eternally, but each life, each aspect, was different. So, she shed tears for the passing of the old man, the old ways, the old love. It was only fitting.

It was time. She wiped a hand across her cheek, rubbed the wetness across the bedsheets, leaving the old life behind. Then she rose, and parted the curtains around each side of the bed, the muslin hissing as it followed the rails above. Satis turned to look around at the antechamber, the soft golden glow of lamps rendering the sand-coloured walls and hieroglyphs in funerary shades. It was time to let the light in.

She stood in front of the bed, and gazed regally down the hall. Her voice rang out imperiously.

"It is time!" She marked the command with one resounding clap of her hands. Immediately, torches in sconces along the walls sprang into furious, flaming life. The sight buoyed her, and she smiled. She looked up at the ceiling far above, and flung one hand towards it.

"It is the time, the hour - I mark the first moment of Amduat! The end of the saros begins!"

And with a low rumble, the ceiling parted. A round gap in the roof began emerging, and with it, the extraordinary sight of the moments before a total solar eclipse. The sun, still blazing, was shadowed almost by half by the black umbra of the moon; brilliant beads of light jumped around the outer edges of the concealed part. It was a glorious moment, the energy of sun and moon vying for possession of the earth, for possession of each other, like the struggle between two bodies at the height of passion. The power in the air was a sizzling, living thing.

Satis drank in the sight, allowed herself to revel for a brief moment, with the awareness that this would never be repeated in her mortal lifetime, in a hundred future mortal lifetimes. Then she looked at the room, half in light, half shadowed, and clapped her hands for the technicians.

"It is beginning. Bring the creature."

 

Buffy stood in front of the seventh door, gritted her teeth, then tried to relax her shoulders. She looked back at Xander and Willow, standing ready. Her face drew them with it's seriousness.

"You know this is it. This is our last chance to get Giles out of there. And we only have forty-five minutes on the clock. So let's make this short and sweet. No screwing around. No chit-chat. I need your help, both of you. Are you ready?"

There was an exchange of glances. Willow firmed her stance, and nodded; Xander gripped Tara's mace and the broken knife in his hands, and tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"Okay - let's do it."

Buffy wasted no time with courtesy, raising her foot and battering the door inwards. And the creature inside returned the favour - it jumped forward from the doorway, released from it's imprisonment, and roared a challenge.

"Oh boy," Buffy gulped.

It stood about seven feet high - had to be, because it's head was almost grazing the ceiling. Or rather, it's mane. Buffy heard Willow and Xander as they let out gasps of fright in the background. Atop a muscular torso and a body like a treetrunk, the creature in front of them had the shaggy head of a lion. Buffy took in the golden fur, sweat-stained, and the yellow eyes. And the teeth. And the claws. And the battle-axe.

She took in the axe just in time to avoid a walloping slice, as the thing slammed it's weapon towards her. The huge double-headed axe lodged in the wall, and wood and plaster crumbled onto the carpet. From her position on the floor, Buffy could see the effects extremely well.

She barely had time to think about what one blow could potentially do to her, before she had to scurry out of the way again, as the creature stamped towards her with one hairy, taloned foot. She rolled into Xander, who was standing, open-mouthed.

"It's a lion? We have to fight a lion?"

Buffy pushed him away from her, trying to get a bit of room to manouever.

"Yes, Xander, a lion! Are you just gonna stand there, or do I have to fight this thing mys-" And she whooped as the axe came whirring in her direction again. She felt her hair lift in the backwash - there really wasn't enough room in the hall to swing a cat, let alone fight a lion.

Shaking off her shock, Willow was hefting Buffy's crossbow, and fumbling for the trigger mechanism. She had to look down to find it, and heard Tara's voice yell out a warning just in time. The axe was suddenly uppermost in her vision, and she fell over backwards to avoid it as the crossbow bolt released.

There was a yowl of pain - the bolt had lodged in the creature's shoulder. Willow was about to grin, until she saw the thing reach up with one furred hand and swipe the annoyance away. Her grin immediately disappeared before it emerged.

"Buffy - ah, that would be a big 'no' for the crossbow." She looked over at the Slayer, who was recovering her balance and her breath. "Hey - look out!"

Buffy ducked to avoid the creature's sideswipe, but was clobbered by a follow-on backhand. She fell hard against the wall, and the creature was suddenly roaring above her, battle-axe raised. She put up both hands in a futile effort to ward off the blow - but it never came. Xander had jumped on the thing's back, one hand around the furry neck for purchase, and the other thumping with the mace.

"Xander, what are you doing?" Buffy yelled as she scrambled to her feet.

"Trying..to..help. What does it..look like." He managed to land a couple more blows, until the lion-thing reached up with one arm and grabbed him by the hair.

"Owwww! Not the hair!"

The lion-demon twisted around, lifted it's axe in preparation for a beheading. Buffy had no weapons, but no choice except to barrel into it's chest, pushing away it's axe-arm. She could smell acrid feline sweat, and was suddenly face to face with the creature. It opened it's enormous mouth, all red cat's tongue, saliva and sharp canines, and roared at her. Reacting on instinct, Buffy let her own breath out in a screeching yell.

"YAAAHHH!!!"

Maybe not the most appropriate response - she thought better of it, and let fly with a ferocious punch to the thing's chest. Whatever this lion-thing was, unlike some of the other challenges it was still solid, you could hit it. She pummelled it with blows, and somersaulted back in a blur of black leather to deliver a roundhouse kick.

"Buffy - your left!"

Xander's voice registered, and she jumped back as the weapon swung in her direction. Not quite fast enough - she felt something brush against her exposed left arm, and when she looked down, realised that the edge of the axe had opened a neat slice in her forearm. It was deep - she knew from experience that when there was little pain a wound was bad. Dammit. She saw the blood welling out of the corner of her eye, her focus now returned to the demon, and she realised that this contest needed evening-up.

"Somebody get that goddamn axe! Willow, Xander - work on getting the weapon, let me deal with the rest."

She rushed in again to throw a punch at the thing's abdomen, figuring that it's human part might be more responsive to punishment.

The sounds of battle reached through the door that confined Giles to what was about to become a sandy death. He hammered on the door with one fist.

"Tara? What in hell's name is going on out there?"

Tara was plastered to the side of the wall near the door, her face livid with anxiety as she watched Buffy, Xander, and the person she loved most in the world slug it out with the lion-thing.

"Oh god - Giles, it's some kind of demon, I think. A man's body, with the head of a lion."

"A lion..." He thought furiously. "It's a temple guard, it's protecting the inner sanctum of the tomb. What's happening?"

Tara licked her lips - her mouth had gone dry after seeing Willow's near miss. "Ah, they're trying hard, but it's really strong. Buffy's hitting it with all she's got, but they haven't got any weapons to speak of..." Her voice went low, and Giles had to strain to hear. "They look tired, Giles. Is there anything we can do? Can I help?"

Giles rubbed sand out of his eyes, and replaced his glasses. "Tara, if you're still weak, I think it's best if you leave the fighting to the others."

"What about spells?"

"Oh dear..." He sighed with frustration and worry, trying to think. There was sand down his shirt, and in his hair, and the sounds of the fighting outside had reached a grating, desperate pitch. "Spells, spells... ah, the lion is associated with Re, fire and flame...you could try a fire-spell. Or maybe not. Oh - I remember that the lion is deified through Sekhmet, a war goddess."

Tara shook her head. "No, this one is definitely male."

Giles scrunched his eyes closed, then opened them with inspiration. "Aker - the lion demon at the door of the netherworld was called Aker. You could try a revoking spell, to return it to it's point of origin."

Tara flattened her hand against the door in unseen thanks. "Okay - Giles that's something." With an effort, she pushed herself to standing, and called out. "Willow! Willow, there's a spell!"

Willow was, at that point, ducking under the axe blade to try and round on the creature from behind. The distraction of Tara's call grabbed her attention, so when the thing lashed out with a back-kick in her direction, she was caught square in the midriff, and flattened straight to the floor. She rolled to sit up, coughing sickly and clutching her ribs.

"Ah, honey - a little busy right now..."

Tara winced, but threw the idea in anyway. "Willow, the demon is called Aker, it guards the temple gate. Use a revoking spell..."

She had her mouth open to say more, but the creature suddenly turned her way and roared straight towards her, then took a menacing step in her direction. Tara's breath felt like it had been sucked away, and she cowered against the wall.

"Tara!" Willow looked anguished, from her curled up seat on the floor, at the sight of Tara's horrified face.

Then the demon stiffened, and it's body jolted with the force of impact. When it moved to straighten and turn, Tara and Willow saw Buffy standing behind it, crossbow raised, one bloody hand on the trigger, and the fletching of four bolts jutting from the demon's back.

"Gotcha," Buffy murmured with a half-grin.

Xander, who'd been waiting on the sidelines to dash in and do occasional damage, now took his opportunity. He leapt forward, and hacked down on the creature's arm with what was left of his knife. The blade, even without the tip, sliced through the tendons of the demon's wrist, and lodged in bone. And with a grab and a quick roll out of the way, Xander realised that he'd managed to get a hold of a totally wicked-looking axe. He pushed off one knee, and hefted the axe in the air, looking particularly pleased with himself.

"Hey, Buffy - check it out. Mission accomplished!"

He was so busy looking pleased with himself, in fact, that he completely forgot to duck when the lion-creature smashed a hand straight into his face. He dropped like a stone, and the axe went spinning along the floor. The blade came to rest with perfect serendipity right in front of Tara's feet.

"Xander!" Buffy saw Xander crumple backwards, and saw the demon lean over him and give an ear-splitting roar. The crossbow bolts in the thing's back didn't seem to do much except slow it down a little, and when it raised a hand to swipe the puny human at it's feet, it's curved blackish talons glinted. She had to act fast. With a primal yell, she threw the empty crossbow at the demon's head with all the force she could muster, then made a mad rush as it turned, hoping to at least provide a distraction.

The lion-demon changed it's focus from Xander's prone form to Buffy's attack, and parried it's swipe into her shoulder. She felt herself fly against the wall with great force, and cracked her head sharply against the edge of a door. Stars whirled in her vision for a few moments - it was enough time to give the demon the advantage. She felt the wind whoosh from her lungs as the thing gave her a solid kick in the stomach, the momentum of the blow rolling her across the floor. Fighting nausea and breathlessness, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, then cried out as the demon used it's joined fists to pummel into her back, tv-wrestling-style.

Oh god, that really hurt. Her bones had crunched audibly as she'd gone down, and it felt like her back was breaking in two. The muscles down each side of her spine squealed in protest as she tried to right herself and avoid another blow. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath, and realised that the blur in her vision was from blood streaming from her forehead. Hey, this definitely wasn't the way this fight was supposed to turn out.

She felt a roughness under her chin, raising her head, and opened her eyes to see the demon's leonine face square in front of her. It was breathing heavily - the hot, sour, catty smell made her wrinkle her nose - and the unmistakable gleam of triumph in it's eyes was ominous. It fixed her gaze and it's face contorted - Buffy bleerily wondered what it was doing. Then, to her surprise, it spoke. With a tongue and mouth long unused to forming words, and with a distinct expression of effort, harshly accented speech emerged from it's maw.

"Madam says - death comes to us all."

And Buffy could only stare in fascinated horror as it raised a hand, talons extended, and prepared to separate her head from her body.

  
Movement. And changes in the light. They were moving him.

What's going on? Spike opened his eyes, tried to look around. He'd phased out there for a second, and now the world was shifting around him. He realised that he was off the marble plinth, and strapped on a gurney. There were grooves in the metal under his body, long runnels criss-crossing behind his back, but he had no time to think about it. Wheels below him turned, and he felt a jolt as the gurney travelled over bumps in the floor. Labcoats flanked each side of him, and he registered faces, and the spin of the ceiling as he was pulled through a translucent plastic door. He was dizzy - the gut-wrenching hunger and nausea overwhelmed him again, and he swallowed around the gorge rising in his throat.

Spike, they're moving you, I can't see exactly...

The strange taste of Dawn's whispering echoed in his mind again. He closed his eyes, feeling a secret sense of relief that someone knew where he was, knew what was happening. Since the Niblet had begun speaking to him, he'd felt oddly calm, in spite of the physical discomfort. She'd been a lifeline, talking quietly in the background, reassuring him that Buffy was on the way, that everything would be alright. The communication might be basically all one way, but at least now he didn't feel like he was going crazy. He mentally shook his head. Him. A vampire. Awaiting rescue by a Vampire Slayer. Life was bloody sad.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in another room - his vision was hazy, but he got impressions of high ceilings, a chill in the air, shades of tan and black, pillars. Shadows flickered off weird shapes along the walls.

I don't know if you can see all of this - you're in a long room, there's a big bed, torches, funny pictures....

Yeah, got that.

Oh, Anya says they're hieroglyphics. We studied that in school.

Great. Here he was, getting a full tour of the pyramids, and he was too strung out to enjoy it. He closed his eyes again, feeling rather faint.

Spike - Spike, don't you wimp out on me now!

Dawn's berating voice pierced through his half-swoon, and he made an effort to stay compos. If only he wasn't so bloody tired... Dawn spoke again, and this time her voice held a weight of cajoling compassion.

Spike, I know you feel bad, but you have to hang in there. It's important. The eclipse is close and something's happening - you really need to stay alert.

But he was so tired...just a little sleep, and then he would -

Open your eyes, mister! Come on, Spike, stay with me...

There was an edge of anxiety to her voice now. Then it changed - a low, charged whisper of warning.

Spike, it's her - she's coming over. Get ready.

Then there was a familiar scent in the air, and the Egyptian woman's face resolved in his vision. She was elaborately made-up, lips and eyes gleaming from the torch light, and wearing a torc head-dress. The gentle tinkling of her jewellry sounded in the air between them as she leaned over him.

"You are the witness," she said softly. " - the witness and the sacrifice. As a result of your generosity, my lord will be renewed, and the life of his sun will go on."

Generosity - yeah, right. Spike wished she'd stop yabbering mumbo-jumbo and get to the point. He wasn't feeling particularly generous, or patient, right at the moment. He curled his lip in the first act of rebelliousness he'd tried since they'd started sucking out his blood. He felt a smug crowing in his mind.

Now that's more like the Big Bad I know! Sic 'em, Spike!

Now don't get too excited luv, that's all I can manage at the moment, he thought - a bit pointlessly, given that Dawn couldn't hear him.

Satis took in his bitter expression and gave an odd smile, her head tilted. "Your defiance is of no concern. You see? - the ritual is beginning." And she gestured to the roof. That was when Spike realized that he was under an open ceiling, in the middle of the day... He gasped, and then noticed that the gurney, situated near the bed, was in shadow. The sun was almost three quarters covered over by the moon's black bulk, and there was only a faint patch of sunlight to his right. Outside, the sky was darkening, to the level of bright moonlight. When the emmersion was complete, and the sun returned from behind it's cover of darkness, the room would be lit up brightly, but until then he was in a safe position.

"I have marked the beginning of Amduat," Satis continued, "and the saros is about to end. In a few moments, I will perform the Opening of the Mouth, and your essence will wash my lord into new life. Do you not feel privileged," she went on, her voice heavy with irony, " that such a creature of death as yourself should be the means for the creation of a new life?"

Spike could only clench his hands into fists under the straps.

Then Satis leaned closer, and her expression was almost sorrowful. "I am - we are both - aware of the meaning of your sacrifice. And we are not ungrateful." With a strange look of tenderness, she suddenly moved in to close the gap between their faces, and Spike felt a searing softness as she kissed his dry lips. His eyes widened in surprise. Then he felt her cheek against his, her breath on his ear, as she whispered with relish: "Remember, William - death comes to us all."

And as Spike stared into the priestess' eyes, it suddenly came to him - the grooves in the metal beneath his skin. He'd seen them before, on swords, and knives, and operating tables. He remembered too, what they were called: blood gutters. And he felt a sudden chill.

  
Chapter Fourteen - Um, Rescue now, Please?

"Willow, hurry!"

Willow had one eye on the battle between Buffy and the lion-demon, and one on the door that she was hacking with the axe. Hence the lack of aim and direction. Bits of door kept flying out towards her - she spat a wood shaving out of her mouth, and tried to focus on the door handle.

"Willow..." Tara was eyeing off the confrontation, and realised that Buffy was in trouble.

"I'm trying!"

"Willow, get me out of here now!" Giles' voice was muffled, and he sounded desperate.

"Just..one..second..." Willow felt sweat come into her eyes as she swung with as much force as she could manage. Her shoulder muscles were screaming, and her ribs hurt from the belting she'd gotten earlier. She raised the axe in the air - it was damned heavy - and with a yell, brought it down at speed on the door handle.

The door collapsed towards her under the weight of the sand behind it. A huge tsunami of sand poured out into the hall - and with it, one very pissed-off and sandy Watcher. Giles coughed and spluttered, and tumbled to the floor at their feet. He blinked up at them owlishly, rubbing sand from his hair and clutching his ruined glasses in one hand.

"Well," he said, amidst coughs, "I thought I was going to be the first person in the annals of the Council to be buried alive in an office building."

Willow grinned, and helped him up. "Except, maybe, my cousin. He's an accountant."

Tara grabbed Willow by the arm. "Guys, no time - look." She gestured towards Buffy, who was on her hands and knees in front of the demon and looked very much like she was about to have her face removed. Painfully.

"Oh no." Giles righted himself, and held out a hand towards the demon He barked a short command in a language Tara and Willow had never heard before, and the demon suddenly stopped, caught in the moment of raising one huge clawed hand. Giles turned to Willow.

"Quickly - it won't hold forever. We need to do a revoking spell, send this thing back where it came from."

"Right with you," Willow nodded. She lifted her hands ceremoniously, and began a Latin intonation. Tara moved to join her in the spell, but Giles caught her by the arm.

"No - this is strong magic, and you don't look up to it."

Tara looked distressed. "But she needs me for this!"

"It's alright - I can help." He smiled at her. "Just send us some mental encouragement." Then he turned to stand by Willow's side, and added his voice to hers.

A strange light began building between Willow's hands, and she started to shake from the effort of controlling it. Whispering the words now, with Giles' strong tenor blending with her own, she brought her hands closer, until the glow swirled into a incandescent ball of fire, swirling with power.

The demon suddenly faltered - the hand that it had raised came swooping down, only to find empty air in the place where Buffy had been. She had managed to crawl a few feet away, and was now watching the interplay between the demon predator, and the magic being created behind it. The demon turned heavily, as if feeling the build-up of power behind it's back. When it had swung completely around to face the three of them, Willow lifted her hands before her.

"Giles!" she panted, grinding out the words between clenched teeth, "I can't control it myself - need your will to focus..."

Giles brought up his own hand on one side of the lightning ball, and gripped the top of Willow's shoulder. "I'm here. It's ready - just say the words."

And with a grunt of effort, Willow let out a short torrent of breath, and an almost incoherent burst of Latin, and flung the ball towards the demon. It flew through the air, to explode on the creature's chest, where the flames seemed to spread, licking around and encircling it's body. Within a second, the demon was obscured by the whirl of burning energy, which whipped around and around it's body, a hurricane of power. From inside the maelstrom, the demon let out a roaring shriek - anger, lust for the hunt, the kill now spoiled, the pull of the world from which it had come. The winding flood of energy around it built up speed, whirling faster and faster, seeming to lift wholly off the floor. And then it began sucking in on itself, imploding with an explosive snap, and with a final despairing scream from the demon, the mass of power whipped itself into a crack in the air. And was gone.

The seventh door slammed shut with a bang, and made them all jump.

Willow sagged back against Giles' arm. "Whoah...that was heavy." She shook her head to clear it, and Giles sat her down on the floor, Tara coming to lend her support.

"It's okay, hon. Hey, that was fantastic."

Willow let out a wobbling breath and grinned wryly at her. "Well, I don't feel so fantastic, but I'll live." She looked up at Giles, who had risen to stand. "Hey - thanks for that. I couldn't have done it on my own."

Giles just shrugged with aplomb. "It was your spell - you did all the hard work, really. I was just tagging along." He smiled down at the two witches, then walked over to the site of the previous battle. The first thing to catch his eye was Xander, still looking mostly conked-out, his head at an uncomfortable-looking angle against one wall. Giles kneeled down, and shifted the young man into a better recovery position. Xander groaned.

"Well, hello there."

"Giles?" Xander squinted up at him woozily, then gave a feeble grin. "Hey, Giles! Glad to have you back. Or...are we both dead?"

Giles grinned in return. "No, Xander, we are both still very much alive."

Xander tried to sit up, and sank back down in a hurry. "Yeah, well, speak for yourself." He reached up one hand to rub at his forehead. A large red welt ran from beside one ear and down to his jaw. Giles put a hand on his arm to steady him.

"Hold still there a moment. I think you'd better rest for a while."

"Well, you'll get no argument from me."

"Giles!"

The Watcher stood and turned, and had the wind promptly knocked out of him as Buffy barrelled into him with a huge bear hug. When she stepped back, however, his smile immediately turned to a frown.

"Buffy, you're bleeding..."

"I'm fine, Giles, really - getting finer by the minute. Are you okay?" Buffy looked very much the worse for wear, with trails of blood down the side of her face, and a burgeoning bruise under one eye.

"I'm perfectly alright," Giles reassured her, "just a bit of sand in my pockets. But I think you had better -"

"No, I'm okay." She shook him off, and began scrubbing at the drying blood with the cuff of Spike's duster. "Giles, it's almost time for the eclipse - we have to get moving."

He gestured towards Xander and the two witches, and lowered his voice. "Buffy, I don't think the others are quite up to this. Xander probably has a concussion, and Willow and Tara are just plain exhausted."

Buffy surveyed the scene and nodded decisively. "Okay - then I'll go myself." And she walked forward, picked up the abandoned axe, and began moving towards the last door.

Giles grabbed her by the sleeve of the coat. "Buffy - remember what I told you. You can't let your feelings influence your judgement. And you can't face off against Satis on your own."

Buffy looked at him like he'd gone crazy. "So, what - after all this, we just let Spike die? You're kidding, right?" He stared at her silently. Buffy's mouth dropped and she went terribly quiet. "You're not kidding."

Giles tried reasoning with her. "Buffy, it's not a callous decision. We still have to open the last door - god only knows what's behind it. We'll be lucky to make it in time, if he's not already dead. You look a complete mess, the others are had it, and we just don't have the strength to come up against a..."

The expression on Buffy's face was like she had just been kicked in the stomach. Her eyes went hard and when she interrupted him her voice was like cold steel. "Giles, I may be on my last legs, but I can still fight. And there is no way that I'm leaving Spike up there, to have his blood drained by that Egyptian bitch. No way. If it was any of you, I'd do exactly the same. So, you can come with me or not - it's up to you. But I'm going - now." She whirled away from her Watcher, the tails of Spike's leather coat spinning out behind her, and stalked towards the door.

With a sigh and a groan, Giles paused for the briefest moment before bolting to catch up with her.

"Buffy, wait!"

"What?" Her gaze was frosty.

Giles sighed. "I'll come with you. You'll need some support."

Buffy glanced at him like she was considering forgiving him. She pursed her lips. "Well...okay then. But no backing out at the last minute."

Giles gave her a look.

"And Giles -" Buffy swallowed, and stared resolutely forwards at the door. "-he's not dead. I think I'd know if he were."

Giles just nodded sadly, and pushed the door before them open.

  
Dawn was watching the scene being played out in the mirror with mounting horror. Her running commentary to Anya got more and more anxious - by this point, Anya had closed the shop 'for lunch', mostly because she had her hands full keeping Dawn calm.

"Really, Dawn, I think Buffy must be nearly there by now. Spike will be fine. I mean, isn't he always?"

Dawn was staring into the mirror with a stress-filled expression. "This isn't a joke, Anya. Look, they've moved him into the antechamber and opened the ceiling. That Satis woman is talking to him... God, I wish I could hear what everyone is saying."

Anya frowned at the girl for a moment, then her expression changed. She leaned forward between Dawn and the mirror, catching her eye. "Dawn, I know you're worried, but I don't think that you can do anything. And worrying definitely won't help. But Spike needs your support, and you have to stay calm, for his sake. So, buck up there, girlie - okay?"

With a sigh, Dawn looked at her, and nodded. Anya gave her an encouraging smile.

"That's the way - stay plucky, y' know. Like me." The ex-demon smiled jauntily. "You need to keep your own spirits up if you plan on boosting Spike's morale." She nodded towards the mirror. "He sure looks like he needs it at the moment. 'Cos, if I'm making this out right, I think that Egyptian woman is holding the disembowelling knife."

"What?!" Dawn returned her gaze to the mirror. It was true. Satis was holding an odd-shaped knife in one hand, and a bowl in the other, and was standing in a pool of sunlight midway between Spike and the bed, her head raised towards the ceiling. It looked like she was intoning the words to a spell - she was staring towards the sun, and as they watched, it was possible to see the sunlight dimming, the pool of light becoming a puddle, a sliver. Dawn checked her watch - it read 12:14pm. Only a few minutes before the totality of the eclipse.

"Oh god, oh god..." Dawn was shivering - the thought of watching Spike being cut up in front of her eyes was too much to bear. She began chewing her thumbnail ferociously, and scanned the image, searching for something, anything, that might delay the inevitable. She turned to Anya in despair.

"Where the hell is Buffy?"

  
Er, if it's okay with you, I'd really like to be rescued now.

The unvoiced thought was uppermost in Spike's mind as he watched Satis begin the ritual. He'd caught a glimpse of the knife and bowl in her hands - that couldn't be good. In fact, it looked about as far from good as you could possibly get. He'd had his innards prodded a long time ago, in Europe, and he simply couldn't emphasise enough how little he wanted to repeat the experience. He swallowed, and tried to push away the remembrance - if he never endured pain like that again, the memory would still be enough to make him gag.

She was still droning - hey, drone for as long as you want, there's no hurry - in Egyptian, he realised. He recognised a few words here and there, something about purification, the sun, an offering. Well - that would be him, wouldn't it. Shit, shit, shit. He started wriggling weakly on the gurney, testing the straps. Even if he'd been at full strength, the leather cuffs at his ankles, wrists and middle were wide and firm enough to prevent his escape. He was pinned down like a butterfly on a display card.

Satis made a gesture, and two technicians hurried forward to the bed. With infinite carefulness, they were propping up what looked like a skeleton with clothes. Must be the hubby - the lord she kept referring to. Spike had seen dead before, and this guy looked pretty much all the way there, a bag of bones in ceremonial robes. The technicians had positioned the body close enough to the side of the bed for Satis to reach in with ease, and had stuffed bolsters under the guy's head and shoulders so he was half-reclining. He was a mummy-in-waiting, like something out of a Hammer horror film - all he needed now was a bit of Spikey goodness to bring him back to life.

Which the vampire was in no way inclined to donate. As Satis completed the purification spell, and turned towards him again, Spike mustered every ounce of energy that he had left in store, and began struggling in earnest. He'd be damned if he was going to make this easy for her - 'generous' his arse. If someone would loosen these straps, he'd be happy to show her his generous side...

And where the bloody hell was Buffy?

Satis looked down on her squirming victim with a dispassionate expression, her voice dreamy. "Don't be afraid, William. Soon your struggle will be over - and we will all be free." She leant forward, placed one warm hand on his abdomen, and positioned the fish-tail shaped knife above his breastbone. Spike suddenly felt a terrible fatigue, radiating from his stomach and licking up through him - against his will, all the fight went out of him, and he went limp on the gurney.

Satis caught his eye as she lowered the knife. "Now -" Her lips curled up in a poisonous smile. "- this is going to hurt."

And as she pierced his skin with the blade to begin the first incision, Spike thought that that may have been the first honest thing she'd ever said to him.

  
Chapter Fifteen - Emmersion

"Well, what do you know." Buffy said humourlessly.

The final door opened onto a set of stairs. It looked like the internal fire-escape stairwell, concrete steps edged by a metal rail. She rolled her eyes at Giles.

"Couldn't somebody have put up a sign, 'this way to the bad guys' or something? We started from the wrong side of the hall."

"It certainly would seem that way - or perhaps this is just the final prize. Buffy, you might want to wait for -"

But she had already lifted her battle-axe and started forward. Nothing happened to prevent her from moving up the stairs - it appeared that this was the only real exit from the Hall of Doors. Once she'd cleared the first few steps without obstacle, she called back to him over her shoulder.

"Come on, Giles - no time to chat." She began taking the steps in pairs, moving quickly.

Giles followed her, checking his watch. It was 12:15pm. They only had a few minutes.

At the top of the stairs was another fire-door. Buffy composed herself, getting her breath back and waiting for Giles. When he was by her side, she put a hand on the door rail.

"Okay, this is it. Are you ready?"

Giles nodded, and Buffy pushed the rail and stepped through the door.

They were at the head of a long room, lit by torches, with carved walls and strange decorations of reeds and statues. But Buffy's attention was immediately drawn by the figures at the end of the room. A couple of labcoated lackeys, clustered around the sides of a huge bed. A body in the centre, it's robes gleaming in the low light. Satis, wearing a cream-coloured, filmy gown, holding something in her hands, and leaning over a bleached body on a metal gurney -

Spike.

Buffy felt her insides do a strange flip-flop. She rolled the axe in her right hand in a smooth baton-twirl, and called out, her voice ringing down through the chamber.

"Hey, is this like an Egyptians-only thing, or is it an open party?"

There was a satisfyingly immediate reaction. Satis looked up - Buffy saw the glint of a knife - and exhaled in a quick hiss that travelled the length of the chamber. Buffy began walking towards the group, the axe swinging comfortingly in her hand. Obviously they hadn't been expecting her company. Well, she loved to gate-crash.

"Slayer..." Satis breathed the word with menace. If she'd looked down, she would have seen Spike close his eyes and mouth the same.

Buffy grinned as she approached. "Yup - got it in one. Congratulations." Her eyes went frosty as she focussed on the woman. "We got through your goddamned obstacle course downstairs. So now, why don't you just leave my friend alone and come on over here for a bit of, you know, girl-talk." And she spun the axe in a lazy arc.

  
Dawn let out a relieved whoop of breath and happiness, and turned to grab Anya's arm.

"Anya, she's there - Spike, Buffy's on the way, just hold tight." She turned to the demoness with an over-flowing grin. "My god, that was close."

Anya nodded towards the mirror. "They haven't rescued him yet. Don't get too excited, you don't know what that Egyptian woman is capable of."

But Dawn wasn't about to have her enthusiasm dampened. 'Whatever it is, I'm sure Buffy can deal - she is the Slayer, after all."

Anya pursed her lips, contemplating the action. "Desperate people can do desperate things, Dawnie."

 

Satis straightened, tried to compose her face, and bit out a strangled word. "Ushabti!" From the shadows by the bed, the hulking security guard emerged, and began moving forward.

"Giles..."

"Right here." His voice sounded quietly behind her other shoulder. "Let me deal with this."

He stepped around Buffy to face off against the creature, holding up one hand and muttering. The creature faltered in it's tracks, it's steps suddenly leaden, like it was pushing through knee-high molasses. Satis realised that more help was needed as Buffy began to close on her.

"Technicians!" She shrieked out the command, and the labcoats began scurrying. As Buffy started clobbering them left, right and centre, the priestess tried to return to her work, lowering the knife. The blade in her hand bit deep - dark red blood swelled out of the incision to trickle down the side of Spike's chest. There was a tiny rasping sound as the knife scraped bone, and the vampire gasped in pain.

Buffy flipped a white-coat over her head, and watched from her half-kneeling position on the ground as the guy tumbled into the wall. She'd heard the gasp from the gurney, and her breath caught - something inside her screamed out for the vampire's suffering to stop. And suddenly she hated Satis ferociously, consumingly, with a purity that blinded her to her surroundings. She rose to her feet, her face a stony mask, and went to move forward.

"Buffy, look out!" Giles voice sounded abruptly behind her, and she turned in time to get a hard punch right in the face. The ushabti had fought off some of the effects of the magic and was standing like a rock to her left. Her eyes still watering from the punch, she swung her axe towards it, but it blocked her blow with one arm, and pummelled her in the stomach. She fell to the floor, the wind knocked right out of her, and her only weapon spun away a few feet towards the wall.

"Ah, help?...Giles, need a little help here -"

Giles ran forward and hoisted the axe up off the floor, made a swing at the ushabti, which was parried away. He received a thump to the side of the head for his trouble, which tumbled him to the floor. He raised himself to his knees weakly.

"Buffy!"

She stood in time to see Giles turn the axe from where it was lying on the floor, and skid it over towards her with a forceful push. With a blow from the ushabti coming her way, she was forced to fling herself in a one-handed cartwheel over the creature's arm, grabbing for the weapon as she came right way up. With a grunt of effort, she raised the axe and brought it down on the creature's shoulder, cleaving it's arm from it's body. The arm dropped onto the floor, where it twitched instinctively, the fingers still opening and closing. There was no blood - the wound at the creature's shoulder was just a jagged hole, with ikor the colour and consistency of mud.

"Weird," she muttered. But there was no time to contemplate - with a strong thrust, she drove the blunt head of the axe into the ushabti's stomach, and it fell over onto it's back with a resounding thump. It still didn't look like it was about to stop anytime soon - it was writhing on the floor, trying to find leverage with it's remaining arm - but it would be at least a few seconds before it got up again. She'd bought herself precious time. She turned her head back to Satis.

This was not the way it was ordained. The priestess was trying to concentrate on the sacrifice, while keeping an eye on the battle in front of her, and on the sliver of sunlight still on the floor. There was a gleam of sweat on her perfect brow, and her hands were faltering with the knife, consumed by the awareness of the impending tragedy, the brief moments left before time ran out. The moment of the emmersion was their only chance. To be thwarted at the point of her lord's renewal, by a mortal...surely the gods couldn't be so cruel? The reality of the vampire's white body beneath the knife, the crimson blood-trails, blurred in her vision as unbidden mental images of her husband rose in her memory. His proud face, his dark eyes, a haughty smile on his lips as he told her of his longing for her, how he'd waited... He waited still. He needed to be restored - had to be restored...

The mechanics of the ritual were irrelevant - all she needed was the final heart's-blood of the sacrifice, administered in the next few moments...and her lord's rising power would do the rest. The heart's blood - she would have to break the ribcage and squeeze out the essence from the heart itself. Wild-eyed, she raised the puseshkuf knife high in the air.

Spike's blurred vision was focussed solely on the shining curve of the blade. Everything else seemed to have receded into blackness, lost in the fog around this single, gleaming point. He knew dimly that the Slayer was there, in the background somewhere, but he also realised that, from such a distance, she would be too late to stop the knife from falling. He felt sadness, and regret - not really what he'd expected to feel, in these final moments. Strange. And he thought, with faint surprise, that it was a load of bollocks, what they said about your life flashing in front of your eyes. He wasn't thinking at all about the things he'd done. Only about the things he'd neglected to do. And his final act, in this world at least, was to consciously fill his lungs, and release a final, sighing breath.

"No!!" Buffy heard herself shout out the word, was shocked to hear the anguish resonanting through her voice, and the helplessness. She was at least twenty-five feet away from the gurney - too far to run, too far to do anything but watch as Satis raised the knife to the darkening sky and prepared to plunge it down into Spike's chest. Her hands curled convulsively into fists - and that's when she felt the warm wooden handle of the axe. After that, her body went into automatic.

She took a short step as her shoulders turned, and her right arm went back with the axe. With a sharp twist, her whole body uncoiled like a whip to send the weapon whistling through the air, spinning end over end. It felt like time had stopped as the sun finally went completely black, the chamber lit only by eerie moonlight, and the axe whirling in slow motion, around, and around, and -

\- slicing through the air above the gurney, through the coolness of Spike's final sigh, colliding with the priestess at full deadly speed, knocking her backwards with the resounding and unpleasantly wet sound of metal carving into bone and flesh. There hadn't even been time for her to scream.

Buffy sagged suddenly where she stood. Somewhere in her brain, it occurred to her that she'd just fought more battles in a few brief hours than she had in a week of patrols, and the energy in her body started dribbling away. Her breath trembled as she exhaled - she hadn't even realised that she'd been holding it in. Then her vision cleared, and she took one faltering step towards the gurney up ahead, then another, stronger, then she was running -

Spike looked up at the sky through the opening in the ceiling, watching the sun for the first time in over 180 years. In spite of being covered by blackness, it looked pretty damn good. Little tendrils of fire skipped around the outside of the moon's umbra, and from where he was lying it looked rather like a bright ring of diamonds, sparkling magnificently. But it couldn't compare to the next vision he had: Buffy Summers, her face dirty and bruised, damp with sweat, her hair limp and straggling out of her ponytail, black ribbons of blood caking from her forehead down her cheek to her jaw, and eyes wide enough to engulf him whole. He turned his head and blinked wearily at her, moved his dry lips with effort, and spoke for the first time in forever.

"What kept you?"

Buffy realised she was gaping at him, closed her mouth, swallowed around all the things she wanted to say, and tried to keep her tone even.

"Traffic. This is L.A., you know."

"Actually, I had no idea." It took an effort to tear his eyes away from her, but he flicked his gaze briefly back up to the sun before looking back at Buffy. "See the eclipse? Not bad, hey?"

Buffy looked quickly up at the conjoined sun and moon, watched as the sun threatened to bleed out from behind it's shadow, then turned to survey Spike. He looked awful. His eyes were sunken and dark, and his skin looked like ivory, the jut of his cheekbones even more pronounced than usual. His hair was a dirty-white tousled mess. And she couldn't remember being happier to see him. An irrational, irrepressible urge rose in her, she found it impossible to hold back. Before she could allow herself to think too hard she moved, laying her palm against his cheek and gathering the air between them as she kissed him, a delicate meeting of his dry, cool lips with her warm sweet ones. She closed her eyes, and felt all their points of contact in one brief, still moment - the smooth cheek under her fingers, his jaw filling the tender hollow of her palm, the curving join of his neck under the skin of her wrist, the feel of his lips on hers, full and soft. All this she absorbed in the space of a second, and in the next second, she had raised her head, removed her hand, and filled the gap in between with her exhaled breath.

They both stared at each other. The sun broke the spell, tearing away from the moon's embrace to pierce the sky with light, and send a gleaming line down the edge of the gurney. Buffy recovered her senses and moved to unbuckle Spike's restraints. "Let's get you out of here."

He wasn't really in a position to assist. Once the straps had been released he tried to roll and sit, but turning on his side was all that he could manage. He let his head rest on the cold metal, taking in the side-on view - he felt like he'd been flat on his back for a hundred years. And that it would take him another hundred years just to get up.

A low rumble sounded abruptly. Buffy felt it in the soles of her shoes and looked around the chamber. The decorations were swaying gently, and then the rumble came again, and the hair on the nape of her neck rose in response. Suddenly, forty-one floors of office building didn't seem all that stable. She pulled on Spike's arm.

"Spike, we have to move - like, now."

"Definitely. As soon as I've had a little sleep..." He closed his tired eyes.

The rumble returned, louder, and the gurney rattled. Buffy lifted Spike's arm up and onto her shoulders, forcing him to loll into a slump. "No sleeps yet - come on, I need you to move here..." But he was a limp weight, and she was exhausted. She needed help...Giles. She needed Giles. God, she'd forgotten about him. She cast her eyes around, and suddenly saw him, kneeling beside the bed, looking at the corpse of Satis' husband. He was muttering something, and then she saw him spit onto his fingers and wipe them across the dead man's mouth. She called out, interrupting his intonations.

"Giles! We need to get out of here!"

Giles glanced at her briefly, then made a final prayer in front of the body, and rose to his feet, hurrying over to Buffy's side.

"Sorry, yes, you're right, this building isn't safe." He looked at Spike, taking in the deep cuts on the vampire's chest, and his general state of semi-consciousness. "He's not looking too healthy there, is he - here, I'll take one side, you take the other." They man-handled the vampire off the gurney; Spike's knees promptly gave out when his bare feet touched the floor.

"This isn't going to work," Giles noted. "Just let me..." And with a grunt, he hoisted the vampire over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Spike lifted his head weakly, and found himself looking at the floor. "Can walk myself..." he mumbled, before sinking back down.

"Sure you can, tough guy," Buffy said drily. She nudged Giles' elbow, motioning towards the bed. "What's with the spit and polish for the dead body?"

Giles looked over at the still form with a pitying expression. "Oh, I just said a few of the ritual prayers for Egyptian burial. The emmersion was still active - it just felt like the right thing to do."

Buffy looked back at the shadow on the other side of the gurney, caught a glimpse of cream linen and redness, which she was glad to pass over quickly. "What about her?"

Giles' face hardened. "I'm afraid I can't quite bring myself to pray for someone who tried to bury me alive. Besides, it was too late for her - the prayers need to be said at the moment of death. And Aman Talis has only just passed away." He indicated with his eyes, and when Buffy looked back at the bed, she was startled to see a human-shaped pile of sand amidst a flattened array of ceremonial robes.

The rumble growled again through the building, the pillars of the bed swaying. It was definitely time to leave. Giles hefted Spike's drooping form onto a more stable position on his shoulder, and then he and Buffy began making tracks towards the doorway at the end of the hall. On the way, they passed other smaller drifts of sand, white coats sagging amongst them, and a large mound of mud.

Buffy inclined her head towards them. "The lackeys?"

"Yes," Giles nodded. "And the ushabti. They fell to pieces, literally, when you killed Satis. She appeared to be holding everything together with her will alone, as her husband's power faded. And not just her collection of henchmen, it seems." The floor beneath them began shuddering as a counterpoint to his words.

"Time to get the hell out of here," Buffy agreed. They reached the fire-well, and began making their way down the stairs to the Hall of Doors. They made the exit in time to see Willow's face come peering around the corner. Her face broke into a grin when she spotted them, and the grin widened when she realised that the jeans-clad legs over Giles' shoulder belonged to Spike.

"Buffy! Giles! I guess this means you killed the bad guys, right?"

Buffy nodded and smiled at her, happy in spite of her weariness. "Yup, wiggy Egyptians are gone and forgotten." She emerged into the hallway, and took stock - Xander was sitting propped against the wall, and Tara was sitting beside him. They both smiled in her direction and Tara used the wall to shakily rise to standing.

"Hey, you made it. Not that there was any doubt about it or anything, but we were worried."

Buffy returned her smile. "Yeah, sorry to leave you guys out of the action. But things got kind of complicated, and Giles didn't think you looked so hot. Xander, are you okay?"

He nodded, and winced. "Yeah - major headaches aside, I'll survive." He eyed the surroundings as the walls and floor began to tremble again. "But not if we don't get the hell out of this building - soon. As a qualified professional, I can tell you that shaking walls are usually a bad sign."

"No kidding," Buffy countered. She squatted beside him and put a hand around his waist. "Can you walk? I don't like my chances of carrying you out of here, and Giles has already got a passenger." She nodded towards her Watcher, who was listing a little under Spike's weight.

Xander looked over, eyebrows raised. "So you managed to save the Big Bad, huh? Well, I don't know whether to congratulate or commiserate..." Then he caught Buffy's disapproving expression. "Alright, alright - I'm glad he's okay. And yes, I think I can walk." Buffy helped him to his feet - he was wobbly, but standing.

"I think you'll do fine," Buffy said. Then she surveyed the others. The vibrations of the building punctuated her words. "Okay, people, we're moving out. Giles, I guess our only option is the lift again, huh?"

Giles had one hand against the wall to steady himself. "I know it's not typically safe to use in an emergency, but yes, I don't think we'll get down forty-odd floors of stairs in time. Buffy, you take the lead. Willow, are you and Tara able to support each other down?"

Willow nodded. She looked to be nearly recovered, and Tara was holding her arm.

"Then -" Giles paused as the strongest growl yet ran through the hall. Bits of plaster fell from the ceiling. He motioned towards the lift with his head. "Then I suggest an immediate evacuation."

  
Chapter Sixteen - Renewal

Hey.

Spike closed his eyes a little harder. He really didn't feel like communicating right now, even with a nod and a wink. He was busy.

Hey. Spike, don't ignore me, I saw you sucking face with my sister, and I know you can still hear me.

Not now, little Bit, he thought gently. Everything was pleasantly quiet, he didn't want the mood broken.

Spike, I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're okay.

He did smile then, and opened his eyes briefly to acknowledge her.

And I also have to tell you that Anya is doing a spell now, so my broadcasts are shutting down. But I hope it helped. I mean, I hope it wasn't annoying or anything, to have me whispering in your ear.

And then he did shake his head a little. No, it hadn't been annoying. In fact, the complete opposite. She'd been his voice of reason there for a while, and he'd needed it. He let a soft smile play over his lips.

So, take it easy on the way home. I'll see you in Sunnydale.

Then there was a faint tingle, a ringing in his ears, that faded quickly to nothing. A shiver went through him - an unknowing observer might have thought he felt chill from the breeze.

"Hey - you okay?" Buffy's voice floated gently down.

He nodded and shifted a little. "Absolutely." Then he closed his eyes again, and let his head sink down further into her lap. For some reason, the gods were being kind. He was stretched out sideways in the backseat of Giles' sports car, using her thighs as a pillow. He felt rung out, exhausted beyond measure, half-dead from hunger - and peacefully happy. Any happier, and he'd be purring.

Buffy used her free hand to lift the collar of the leather coat draped over him, and pulled it up over one exposed shoulder.

"Everything alright back there?" Giles called softly over his shoulder. His eyes were focussed on the road in front, the whizzing traffic markings and the countryside they passed, darkening now as dusk settled in. Occasionally he cast a curious look into his rearview mirror, observing the silent pair behind him.

"We're fine, Giles - everything's fine." Buffy smiled into the gathering dark, let her eyes wander to the blur of road ahead, as she curled Spike's hair absently between her fingers, threading the fair strands in and out in a slow hypnotic movement that eased her mind, relaxed her body and breathing, and slowly lulled her into rest.

The car sped on, into the gloom.

 

  
They'd made a stop before they hit home, pulling in to the hospital and seeing Willow, Tara and Xander inside - Giles was worried about Xander's possible concussion, and thought it best that he get checked out before morning. Willow was relieved that they she hadn't been pulled over for driving without a license, and she and Tara decided to leave Joyce's car in the hospital parking lot and take a taxi home.

Xander was admitted for x-rays - Giles called Anya from the payphone in the lobby, and while they waited, Buffy made a quick stop at the blood bank, calling in a favour there to collect as many bags of O-neg as she could conceal under her sweater. By the time Anya arrived to wait for Xander, Buffy was back in the car, curled up in the front seat and waiting dozily for Giles to return, reluctant to disturb Spike in the back, where, after slurping hungrily through two bags of blood, he'd fallen into a heavy, recuperating sleep.

They had no choice but to disturb him, however, by the time they hit the Magic Box. Giles opened up the shop through the back-alley, and with the last of her strength, Buffy helped Giles haul the vampire's dead weight into the training room and onto a pile of mats and blankets. Considering the condition he was in, Giles thought it was the safest place for him until he recovered, at least partially. Buffy fussed around, making him as comfortable as she could, and Giles left her to it, heading for the front of the shop; Buffy heard the distinctive tinkle from the office of Scotch being poured into a glass.

Spike stirred under the blankets as she knelt on the floor and tucked a folded towel under his head for a pillow. Eyes closed and only half-awake, he nuzzled her hand as she bundled him under the covers. It felt kind of strange, but she didn't draw away immediately. She let her eyes travel over the length of him, quiet and camouflaged under the layers of blankets. When her gaze returned to his face she was a little startled to see him looking at her.

"I need to say thank you." Spike's voice was soft and faintly rough, and he still seemed only half-alert.

Buffy gave him a polite smile. "You're welcome." She swallowed, and waved a hand towards the supplies of blood, piled beside the mats on the cool floor of the training room. She suddenly felt the need to be efficently preoccupied. "There's more blankets if you need them, and the blood's over there - I can put some of it in the office fridge if you want, but you should probably get some more into you now." She paused from playing nurse for a moment, and tilted her head almost shyly towards him. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'll recover," he rasped. "Nothing that a few gallons of blood, a carton of cigarettes, and a half a bottle of scotch won't fix." He eyed her searchingly. "How about you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine. Although I could do with about a week's sleep. Giles is going to take me home in a second." She looked him over. "Will you be okay here on your own?"

"No problem." Spike closed his eyes again, the fringe of his lashes darkening his cheeks.

Buffy felt like she was doing the wrong thing by leaving him to recover alone. She spoke apologetically. "I mean, I could bring you over to my place, but I think my mom would probably -"

He interrupted her curtly. "Like I said, no problem."

She sighed, feeling uncomfortable. Something felt unfinished. But she had tucked Spike in, and her job was done - she began to get up to leave, when Spike suddenly snaked one arm out of the covers and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Buffy - why did you kiss me, back in L.A.?"

She flushed, and spoke wryly. "Well, don't get all hot under the collar - it may not happen again until the next solar eclipse." But his eyes were still burning at her. She swallowed, and searched for an answer. "Why? Actually, I - I don't know."

He examined her face, then nodded to acknowledge her confusion. Then an arch smile began lifting his features. "Maybe I should get kidnapped and tortured more often."

She couldn't help it - a corner of her mouth rose in response. "Maybe. If you keep making me lose at poker."

He grinned then, and exerted a little pressure. Buffy felt herself gently tugged down closer, and had to bring her other hand onto the floor for support. This was too close for comfort, but she was letting it happen regardless. His gaze was travelling over her face, returning again to her eyes, her lips. She felt her breathing quicken helplessly. She shouldn't be doing this...

"You haven't got a poker face," he growled softly. His face was so near now, she could almost feel the vibration of his low words in the air. She licked her lips nervously, replied in the same quiet tones.

"Oh really? And who says I -" Then she was cut off by his lips. Oh, the softness - she made a deep, inarticulate noise in her throat, and closed her eyes. From the first moment, and as the kiss deepened, she felt like she had molten lava in her veins. Their lips pressed, caressed. His tongue flicked out to touch the inside of her mouth, and she shivered convulsively.

The kiss built in intensity. His thumb began making slow, erotic circles on the inner skin of her wrist, and when she grazed his lower lip with her teeth, he gasped against her mouth.

Madness.

The clink of glass from the front room returned them to their senses, and Buffy pulled away like a startled deer.

"Oh god."

They stared at each other - her face was flushed with heat, and Spike's expression was hungry with desire, disappointed, shocked. Buffy closed her eyes, willing the glorious sight away, and shook her head to clear it. She began stammering as she started to her feet.

"Oh. Oh, um - I've gotta, um, go...I mean, I've gotta -" She looked around wildly. The door to the training room was clear - Giles was still safely out front. "Um, I need to lie down - no!" She saw Spike's grin emerging. "I mean, not here - no, I mean, I need to get some sleep. As in, rest. That's it, yeah - I need to rest. And you should too - rest, I mean."

"Well, if you say so," he drawled, "but you make it a bit hard." He had moved one arm up to cushion his head, and was grinning at the sight of her muddled performance, thinking that she looked lovely, so hot and bothered.

Buffy stopped. "I do?" She leaned closer a little, hypnotised by the residue of longing in his eyes. Then the implication filtered through. "Oh, goddammit Spike! You... I..." She straightened and closed her eyes, clapped a hand to her forehead. "I am very tired. I am obviously going crazy from lack of sleep. And you -"

"Yes?"

She waved a hand in front of her as if to ward him off. "You are obviously delirious. So now, I'm just going to go home, and you are going to stay here, and...I'll see you when I see you." She finished with a flourish and began backing off towards the door to the front of the shop.

"Then I'll see you soon." His low whisper carried across the distance to her ears.

"Giles!" Buffy called out a touch too loudly. Her Watcher popped his head out from around the office door, then circled the counter and came over.

"Yes, Buffy? Are you ready to go?"

"Definitely." She nodded emphatically. Giles looked at her curiously, then let it go, reaching for his car keys.

"Well then, I'm at your service. Let's get you home before you drop."

"Please."

When they turned back through the training room to let themselves out, Spike was already curled up again in his blankets, his face burrowed into the covers.

"Will Spike be alright there, d'you think?" Giles asked quietly.

Buffy nodded again. Her look back at the vampire was touched by something unfathomable. "He'll be fine. I just - I think I really need to go home."

"Certainly." Giles ushered her towards the car. "Here - get in. You'll be home and asleep in no time."

"Sure." Buffy wished that were true, but given what had just happened, thought it was highly unlikely.

He put the car into reverse, then pulled out of the alley. On the way to the Summers' house, Giles wondered a little at Buffy's silence, but blithely put it down to fatigue.

 

  
Chapter Seventeen - Things Neglected

  
It had been nearly a week. They all seemed to have recovered okay. Xander spent a few days in bed, after a day in the hospital under observation; Anya didn't complain. Willow and Tara were up and about, and went to visit Giles on the Monday, to rehash the magic used in the Hall of Doors - stuff like that could keep them busy for weeks. Spike crawled back to his crypt, with a little help from Dawn, who went in early and cleaned up his whole living room, leaving a silly Hallmark get-well card on top of the tv. Buffy slept for almost two days, hung around with the others at the Magic Box during the day, and tried to make herself scarce by nightfall, patrolling the cemetaries furthest away from Spike's side of town.

She was brooding.

She covered quite well, she thought. No one seemed to notice the 'Buffy - With a Little Extra Cheerful On Top' routine, or else they put it down to a post-Satis sense of victory that they all seemed to be enjoying.

Only now it was Friday. Poker night.

Buffy umm-ed and ahh-ed about whether to go. She could beg off, say she had something else to do, like...oh, shopping, or maybe a hair appointment. Or, at a pinch, she could say she had to study. On second thought, that would never wash. Well, she could say...

"So, you going tonight?" Dawn's face appeared around the corner of the door to her room. Buffy looked up from her contemplation of her bedroom wall.

"Hm? Oh, I don't know, I think I'm a little tired..." She tried to distract herself, going to the closet and opening it up.

"You should go." Dawn stated. She wandered in, uninvited, and plonked herself down on the bed. "I'd go, if mom'd let me. It sounds like fun - playing cards, hangin' out. Eating junk food. It's gotta be better than Friday night tv."

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe."

Dawn looked at her. "Really - you should go." She began twisting a strand of hair around her fingers, watching her sister. "You always have a good time. And then you could just get it over with - you know, stop avoiding Spike and all."

Buffy turned slowly, a shocked expression on her face. "Come again?"

Dawn continued nonchalantly. "You could stop avoiding Spike. Like you've been doing all week."

Buufy's tone was icy. "And what gave you the - incorrect, I might add - impression that I was avoiding Spike?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't know about the others, but it's been pretty obvious to me. Come on, Buffy, I'm your sister. I know you think I'm just a kid, but I'm not blind." Which was certainly true. She hadn't revealed anything to Buffy about her litle foray into magic, or her role in the last adventure. She'd sworn Anya to secrecy, laying it on thick about how she would get into trouble at home, and now she was happy she'd gone to all the effort.

Buffy was ominously silent. Dawn got worried that she'd taken her match-making notions just a little too far. She looked at her sister carefully, then lost patience and decided to jump in with both feet.

"Geez, Buffy - stop making it into such a big deal. He's a guy - okay, a vamp-guy, but nothing's perfect. You're a girl. Sorry, a woman. You like each other - kinda weird, but not totally out of the realms of possibility. I mean, you do have a lot of wiggy stuff in common." She leaned back on the bed, pleased with her concise summation of the facts. She knew she was on thin ice here, but she threw it in anyway. "You know, I think you'd make a kinda cute couple."

Buffy's seething boiled over at that final goad. "A cute couple? A cute... Dawn, do the words 'Vampire Slayer', as in 'I kill vampires for a living' have any meaning for you whatsoever? Are you insane? Oh, I forgot, you are insane - you're a teenager."

Dawn folded her arms over her chest. "God, touchy much. Don't have a big hissy fit, I just thought that you and Spike -"

Buffy's voice rose. "Me and Spike? Dawn, there is no me and Spike. Can't you get that through your head?" Her face was colouring with anger.

Dawn finally got riled. She stood up, glaring at her sister, her own voice rising to respond. "Well I will if you do first! You don't get it, do you? He cares about you, Buffy. And you care about him, or you wouldn't have gone running off to the rescue. What more do you want? Avoiding him won't help. It doesn't have to be so complicated - just deal with it." And she stomped out of the room, slamming the door as she went.

Buffy stood rooted to the spot, mouth agape and still fuming. Her eyes were fixed to the spot where Dawn had been a moment before, and mentally she was playing Dawn's words over again in rewind. He cares about you...You care about him...Just deal with it. And something triggered inside of her.

With unseeing eyes, she turned back to the closet and removed jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket. Then she dressed hurriedly, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.

From her window, Dawn watched Buffy leave, a gentle grin on her face. It looked like her idea had worked - she must still have a little bit of that Goddess-wisdom mojo. She sighed and crossed her fingers. Maybe now there would be some peace in the house.

  
Buffy arrived at the Magic Box a little late. She walked up to the door, and through the picture window she saw the dim lights on, the group gathered around the table, heard the sounds of laughter. Wait a minute - she counted figures and realised that everyone was there...except her and Spike. She sighed against the glass. Great.

She was about to put her hand on the door, when she heard a quiet cough behind her. She stiffened, but turned slowly around to face him.

He was standing out of the light of the streetlamp, his face and body in shadow. Then he stepped forward, flicking the glowing butt of his cigarette away to his right. It was funny, she thought, but he looked almost as freaked out to see her as she did seeing him. They stood there like two strangers for a moment, shuffling uneasily. Buffy couldn't stand it and broke the silence first.

"Hey. You're looking better."

He shrugged, looking down near her knees somewhere. "Yeah, I'm right as rain now, thanks." The silence settled again, until he cleared his throat. "Hm. And you?"

"Oh, just fine. Doing the old 'bouncing-back' thing."

"Hm."

"Hm."

They stared at each other again for a moment. Then Buffy began, falteringly.

"Spike, I'm sorry. I've...I've been avoiding you. I didn't mean to...I mean, I did mean to, but I didn't - um...oh, you know what I mean." She trailed off hopelessly.

Spike eyes were measuring her. He looked faintly surprised, and confused, but not particularly worried. A half-grin touched his lips as he replied. "It's okay, luv. I think I understand. So...are you okay now?" He tilted his head, waiting for her response.

She smiled gently, relieved. "Yeah, I'm okay."

There was a twinkle in his eye now. "Are you sure?" He stepped a little closer and her breath caught in her throat. "You're not still...over-tired?"

"Ah, no..." Dammit, he was doing it again. She supposed she would have to get used to it. Somehow, she didn't think getting used to it would be such a chore after all.

There was definitely a sparkle of hunger in his eyes now as he leaned in. "And I'm not delirious, so..." And with that, he closed the gap. He nuzzled his cheek against hers briefly, enough to make her eyes roll back a little, enough to make her give a tiny gasp of wonder and pleasure. His lips were smiling as he brushed them over hers delicately. She shuddered, and then he was gone, had pulled away. Buffy swallowed and sighed out a trembling breath, feeling faintly frustrated.

"Have you got your poker face on, then?" He was watching her face with a smile, still close enough for her to feel the warmth of her exhaled breath in the space between them, and when he reached his arm around her she jumped a little. But instead of touching her, he put his fingers on the door handle. Tease, she thought drily.

"I thought you said I didn't have a poker face?" she said, as he turned them both towards the door. The husky quality of her voice made her marvel a little.

"Well," he grinned, and murmured into her ear, making goosebumps travel up her arms. " - I guess we'll soon find out." And he pushed them both forward, through the door, into the lights of the shop, the comfort of warmth, and the happily oblivious, expectant looks of their friends.

 

 

Finis


End file.
